


Heart of Ice

by venomRED



Series: The Winds of Fate [1]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 09:09:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 137,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11711289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venomRED/pseuds/venomRED
Summary: The life of Vaelyth, an orphan-turned-thief, is turned upside-down in what should have been a simple deal gone wrong. After having everything taken from her, to what lengths will she go to see vengeance done upon those who wronged her? And in the process, can she learn to trust again when the stakes are higher than they've ever been?Talian Sunvale, the last loyal Lord of a traitorous house, embarks on a long mission to redeem his family's name, and legitimize his holy order in the eyes of Azeroth. But in the face of such adversity, how closely can he hold to the morality that drives him?(Rated M for Language/Violence/Adult Content)





	1. Foreword

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lunarelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarelle/gifts), [ysoldes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ysoldes/gifts), [wolfandwild](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfandwild/gifts).



 

 

**~ Introduction ~**

_To Lunarelle; for the encouraging words, the insightful conversation, the many laughs, and of course, the spiders._  
_To ysoldes; for the unwavering dedication to the piece, the helpful comments and perspective, and the mini panic-attacks at forgetting how subscriptions work_

A few years back, I had the opportunity to sit down with a handful of friends of mine who also do a bit of writing in their spare time, some of them as a career, and essentially talk shop over a couple rounds of drinks. One of them had just published her first novel, and was working on a second one in a different genre. Ever seeking helpful advice or criticism, I asked her what she found the toughest part of the writing process to be. She told me that genre hopping ended up being the biggest roadblock she'd faced, and the answer surprised me. She told me that there was something about moving from one genre to another that required an almost acrobatic level of control over one's word choice, story structure, and dialogue writing; and that after having spent so much time working in one genre, she had trouble swapping to another and feeling truly at home.

Perhaps due to the conversation, and perhaps due to the drinks, I made a strange bet with myself that day. I told myself that by the time I decided to cap the pen for good, and never write another word, I wanted to have written something, published or not, in every genre I could think of. I wanted to flex those muscles, and learn the process by which one floats between universes and writing styles. Recently, I read a piece on this site that inspired me to take the first step toward that (albeit a small one, sci-fi to fantasy isn't exactly biography to crime serial). From reading that piece came a lengthy conversation with the author, a wonderful individual who further fanned the flames of my desire to write my fantasy piece. But if I planned to step out of one genre and attempt another, I'd want to do it in a universe in which I feel as comfortable as I do the Milky Way of Mass Effect. Thus, I inevitably turned to the one thing that consumes about as much of my life as writing does.

And so I hope you enjoy my foray into fantasy, and the incredible world of Blizzard Entertainment's _Warcraft_ series.


	2. Chapter 1

***** Author's Note *****  
Hello, everyone, and welcome to another novel I'd like to launch on my page here.  
It may or may not become a series, depending on the response and where the story  
takes me, but I want to share it with you all, so here it is.  
I'm attempting to keep as true to the game's lore as possible, and perform quite a bit  
of confirmation and research as I write, but if I miss a fact here or there, try not to be  
too quick to grab your pitchforks. It's fan fiction, after all :P  
To new readers, welcome aboard! And to older ones who've decided to check out yet  
another piece of mine, thank you so much for returning. It means the world.  
Let's get started!

* * *

**~ 1 ~**

Nightvale Crossing stood at the southern shores of the small lake in the eastern lands of Ashenvale, its structures of wood and stone a long-standing testament to some of the bravest Kal'dorei pioneers that had ventured here centuries ago and established a settlement. The buildings dated back through time untold, and tonight they sat under a full moon, the soft light bouncing off each surface and settling the entire village into a hazy glow. People milled about the small streets of the village, even at this late hour, as the seasonal festival was in full swing. Elves walked to and from the edge of the town, conversing with friends, enjoying the music and festivities, and making merry in the glow of the moon. A young girl sat delicately at the top of a small stone retaining wall encircling one of the larger buildings in the village, and many passer-by spared her a chuckle and a wagged finger of feigned annoyance at her stunt, but she smiled to all of them, and greeted those she knew.

After one such group passed her by, her gaze was drawn to the far end of the village, where she could see her parents and younger brother standing at her father's merchant stall. Her father was a tanner, perhaps the best the village had to offer, and his booth confirmed it. No less than a dozen people at any given time crowded around to see his latest masterfully-crafted pieces, and pick his brain about how, by Elune's grace, he had managed to come up with some of the ideas that he had. She smiled in pride of him as she watched another man ask precisely that question. She was proud of her father. He was a good man, an honest man, and he always treated others fairly. Oh, his wrath was something to behold, when she or her brother got themselves into trouble. She remembered with stomach-turning clarity being made to muck out the nightsaber stables for a week after she'd wandered unattended to the next village over. Nightvale had been in an uproar looking for her, the whole village pitching in to help her father, and he'd been staunchly embarrassed when the search turned her up. And so had she when he had paraded her back into town. Still, for his strict parenting, he instilled within her some of the most important characteristics she possessed, and she truly loved him, as she knew he did her. She shook her head to clear away the memories of his fury, glancing back to see her mother searching the crowd for her. She raised a hand, waving its light pink skin in the moonlight until the woman saw her. Her mouth fell open and she pointed down at the ground with great force. Vaelyth chuckled, hopping down and winding her way through the meandering crowd to reach her family.

She closed her eyes as she walked, taking in the smells and sounds of the festival. Somewhere to her right, people seemed to be enjoying themselves a bit too much, if she were to say so. Shrieks and yells blended with the musical accompaniment as if to signal that this festival was about to increase in fervor, and she decided that it was a good thing she was already meeting up with her parents. Suddenly, the music seemed to drop out all at once, and a cold pit settled in her stomach as the screams continued. She rushed forward, peering through an alleyway between two buildings to see dozens of lit torches emerging from the woods beyond the tree line around Nightvale. Carrying the torches were monstrous creatures, thick-skinned and green of color, with gnashing teeth. All around the eastern edge of Nightvale, they attacked the celebrating villagers, cutting them down brutally and without hesitation. A scream wedged itself in her throat, refusing to be dislodged, and she swallowed it down, shoving her way through the now-terrified crowd and back towards where she thought her father's booth should be.

"Mama!" she yelled as she ran. "Papa!" Though she got no reply. Shoving her way through the crowd, she spilled out into an open courtyard, and saw them at the other side. Her father's eyes lit up as he found her in the crowd, and she sprinted across to him. He knelt down, taking her into his arms.

"Oh, praise Elune, my sweet child. We had thought the worst."

"Papa," she cried into his chest, "there are…there are…things…and they…they…"

"Shh," he comforted her. "I know, little one. We must make haste. Your mother and brother are waiting in the back with Lashi. He will take you all back home. Quickly now!" He ushered her along in front of him as they slipped between a pair of buildings, just before a horde of the vile creatures burst forward into the courtyard. Screams of agony and rage followed behind them as they moved, and at one point her father reached down, cupping his hands over the bases of her long, slender ears. The world became muffled, the sound of her own heart beating in her chest amplified into her skull, and as they wove around the corner into the stables, the sharp gasp she took was louder than she'd imagined. Her father's roar, on the other hand, was dulled.

In the center of the stable lay her mother and brother, cut down in pools of their own blood. A single creature stood above them, cleaning its blade while inspecting Lashi's saddle and reins from a safe distance. At her father's rage, the creature looked up, grinning wickedly and advancing on the pair of them, muttering something in an unfamiliar, but harsh, tongue. Her father shoved her to the side, pulling his long hunting knife from the belt at his back. His white hair, the same as his daughter's and her mother's, hung loose behind him, falling to the middle of his back, and it swayed as he moved forward in a battle-ready stance to fight.

"Vaelyth!" he called to her. "Get to Lashi! Ride west! Follow the road to Astranaar, and tell them what has happened here!"

"Papa, no!" she screamed back at him, and he crossed blades with the creature, his long and elegant knife ringing against the side of the beast's crude and jagged blade. He turned his shoulder, shoving his attacker into a nearby stall and against the wall, before turning back to her.

"Go, Vaelyth! Now!"

She scrambled to her feet at the harsh tone he'd used, the one usually reserved for when she absolutely must obey his word, and moved toward the startled nightsaber. Lashi, for his part, nuzzled her hand as she reached out for him while still looking back at her father.

"Papa…" she called out desperately, "Please…"

Her father lunged forward, stabbing the beast through the arm while deftly avoiding an attack of its own. The thing roared out, backing off for a split second, and he looked to his daughter with eyes she had never seen before. He was begging her, pleading with her, to go.

"Go, Vaelyth. Your mother and I love you so much. You must survive this."

Her gaze fell to her mother and brother on the ground, tears that had been falling from her eyes this whole time beginning again in earnest. She looked back to him, one last time, and swung herself up onto Lashi. Her father yelled out a command, and the nightsaber burst forward from its stable, breaking the small wooden gate off its hinges and rushing out of the building, away through the forest towards the main road. Vaelyth held tightly to the pommel of his saddle, but her eyes were fixed back into the stable, and she saw her father slice the throat of his assailant just as another came up from behind.

"Papa!" she screamed into the night. Her father turned, but too slowly, and the second beast split him from shoulder to navel. His body tumbled over into the straw, his hand falling to rest on top of his love's own. The beast looked out of the stable then, at her retreating shape, and roared. She knew he couldn't catch her, but she sobbed uncontrollably in the saddle at the loss of her family. Lashi seemed to feel her torment, letting out a primal roar as he tore through the forest under the glow of the moon, still full in the sky, and indifferent to their suffering.

She held to the nightsaber for what felt like hours, but the night's events had drained her, and after a long while, she felt herself slipping from the saddle, crashing down into thick underbrush somewhere deep in the forest. She tumbled for a few meters, pain spiking through her left leg as she hit the ground, and came to rest on her back, dazed and staring up at the moon. Lashi whined in concern, coming over to lick the side of her face, but she aimlessly patted the ground next to her, and after a moment he lay down beside her in the tall, cool grass. For generations, her family had attributed all their success and fortune to the grace of Elune. Her parents had been devout in their beliefs, and yet where was her protection? Where had been the divine wrath they were told so often about, when the chosen of Elune were threatened? It had not come. She narrowed her eyes, glaring up at the glowing orb in the sky, and anger consumed her as she succumbed to a restless sleep.

She dreamed of times long ago, countless other festivals that had ended in happiness and a strengthened sense of community when the dawn's breaking light peeked through the trees. Nightvale had been a village, but it had felt like one large extended family. Now, she had no idea how many of them were left, if any at all. She dreamed of the day she'd been given her tattoos, her rite of passage into adolescence, though she herself hadn't felt any more mature than the day before. She dreamed of her mother's cooking, and her father's old Kal'dorei hymns, which he would sing quietly to his children in a baritone that sounded like dark, hardened wood glazed over with honey.

Eventually, Lashi's growling woke her, and she stirred, dizzy and with blurred vision. She felt hot, and placed a hand to her head. It definitely felt warmer than usual. "Hush, Lashi," she called out softly, attempting to stand. Shooting pain surged up her leg, and she cried out before crashing back to the grass below.

"It's likely broken, I'm afraid," a deep voice called out to her from the edges of the small clearing in which she and Lashi had taken their rest. Its owner was another of the green beasts, and she unconsciously began to crawl backwards away from him. His light gray hair covered the top of his head, pulled back into a short ponytail, while four long thin braids comprised his facial hair, hanging to the middle of his chest. His eyes were a deep, dark green, and he stood up from the rock upon which he'd been observing her, reaching out a steadying hand. "Easy, child; you'll do it more damage that way."

"I'd rather have it broken forever than be killed by you!" she spat back at him. His head tilted slightly to the side in confusion, and he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Well alright then. But for your own good, at least crawl away on your belly; you'll do less damage to the ankle that way. You might even be able to have it healed well afterwards if you're careful in the crawling."

She stopped scooting away, looking down at her leg, then back to the beast, glaring at him the whole time. After a moment of pause, she hurled herself over onto her stomach, crawling away towards the tree line of the clearing. The old creature chuckled and began to approach her slowly-fleeing form. Lashi stepped between them and growled deeply in warning, but the beast waved his hand while muttering something in its native tongue, and Lashi disappeared, a panicked, wildly croaking frog resting on the forest floor in his place.

"No!" she cried out, having seen the action over her shoulder. "What did you do to him? What did you do?!"

"Easy, small one," the beast called out quietly as it reached her fleeing form. She spun onto her back, slapping, punching, and kicking at him as best she could with her good leg. Some of the hits he deflected, others connected, and still others he allowed to connect. Slowly, surely, her rage gave way to exhaustion, and she sat back, tears overtaking the fury, crying softly as she looked at her would-be executioner.

"What did you do?" she managed to stammer out between wracked sobs. The creature stared at her for a long moment, then reached down to her ankle. Green magic sprang to life in his hands, the kind she'd seen from the druids before, and a soothing coolness began to settle into her leg. Her tears slowed, and she sniffed a few times as he worked.

"Your faithful steed will be just fine," he said quietly, "I assure you." As soon as he'd finished the statement, the frog exploded in a cloud of gray smoke, and a very confused Lashi stood back in the clearing with them. He rounded on the beast immediately, but the creature didn't even look up from her leg, simply held his hand out again in the same manner he had before. Lashi backed down, unsure for a moment, before laying down in the grass. "He's a quick learner," the beast said to her.

"H-He's the best nightsaber there ever was," Vaelyth replied, still sniffling as the beast worked on her ankle.

The old creature nodded. "I'm sure he is." He continued his work for a long moment, and then the green around his hands winked out. "From what I've been able to gather," he began, standing to full height and stretching his back, "the healing my people use is different to that of your kind. You're likely to be a bit sleepy now that I'm done."

Unable to think of a response, or another hateful thing to say, she simply nodded.

"Well," he continued, "I have a camp a little way from here. If you'd like to rest, I can certainly host you."

Her family flew through her thoughts again, and the tears returned in force. "I…I have to get to Astranaar," she managed through the sobs. The beast knelt back down, placing a large hand on the back of her head and petting her hair.

"Hush now, little one. If the village you seek is the one I think it is, you won't make it halfway there in this state before you're lying unconscious in another glade somewhere. And with these forests, you're lucky I came along before the bears or the spiders did, hmm?"

She nodded fervently. Her father had always warned her of the dangers in the woods, and she had seen them first-hand a few times herself. She hadn't known how long she'd been unconscious, but she suspected the beast's words were true.

He nodded to her. "You come rest by my fire tonight, little sparrow, and when morning comes you can fly away as fast as you like."

Exhaustion began to overtake her, and she sniffed more as she replied. "You…you promise?"

The old beast chuckled and nodded once more. "I promise."

She stood on shaky legs, and he led her over to Lashi, who still looked askance at the creature as she climbed up on top of him. She held the pommel with all her might, and Lashi followed the beast through the dense underbrush and, eventually, into a much smaller clearing than they'd been in previously. A small campfire sat in the center, its flames licking up and into the night sky around the sides of a black metal pot. Behind it, a simple tent of animal skins and tree boughs stood, the hint of a bedroll of some kind peeking out from behind the one flap that sat ajar.

She crawled off Lashi, stumbling over to the fire and plopping down in front of it, absorbing its warmth against the cold night air. The beast crossed to a rack beside his tent, where large pieces of caught game hung, removing one and tossing it to the nightsaber. Lashi pounced upon it happily, and the old beast chuckled.

"A nobler beast, there never was."

"H-His name is Lashi," she squeaked out, huddling against the cold. The creature nodded, leaning into his tent and retrieving a soft woolen blanket before wrapping it around her shoulders. Vaelyth though he might have needed it more, as he wore no shirt of any kind, and only a kilt below the waist, but the creature seemed to shrug off the cold, sitting down beside her and pouring them both a bowl of stew from the cooking pot. He handed her the bowl, and she took a hungry sip, her face twisting up as she coughed and sputtered.

"Ugh!" she cried out, and the creature laughed.

"Well yes, I suppose it's no berries and cream, but we make do with what we can out here, little sparrow."

"My name is Vaelyth," she replied, looking down and eyeing the bowl of stew in her hands far more cautiously than she had before.

The beast nodded. "And I am called Rhaga, although not by many. I have stayed alone in these woods for many moons now. In truth, you have been the first person I've seen since I settled here."

"But there are others…like you," she said, her throat tensing up at the remembrance of Nightvale. Rhaga shook his head adamantly.

"No, little Vaelyth," he replied quietly, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She only flinched a little. "I fear there are none left like me. Not anymore."

She took his meaning, looking down somberly into her bowl of stew. They sat and ate for awhile in silence, their only sounds those of quiet slurping, the insects in the forest around them, and Lashi's hungry jaws behind them. After they finished, Vaelyth sat staring into the fire. Rhaga sat beside her, but his eyes were on her. He said nothing, though, allowing her the time she needed.

"They killed them all," she whispered after an hour or so. "I…I don't have anything anymore."

"You have your friend Lashi," Rhaga answered just as quietly. "He seems willing to go to the ends of the world to keep you safe."

She smiled, but the gesture did not reach her eyes. "He would. I know it." She paused a moment, taking a long, hitching breath as she attempted to contain her sorrow. "I just mean…"

"They have taken all that you loved, for reasons you do not understand," he finished for her. Her eyes left the fire then, and met his. Fresh tears flowed from them, and she nodded. Rhaga reached out, wrapping her in a strong yet soft embrace, and she sobbed against his arm. "They did the same to me," he recalled quietly as she wept. "I opposed them, and my family paid the price. I had nothing, no one left." He took her shoulders, holding her at arm's length, and her eyes found his once again. "You and I are not of one kin, little Vaelyth. We are not even of one world. And yet, we are the same in this."

"Yea…" she mumbled, looking away into the fire once more. Its dancing flames entranced her, and she felt herself growing wearier than she'd ever felt in her life. She slumped over, leaning into Rhaga, and he shifted to hold her as her head lay against his leg. She stared into the fire as she lay there, and he stroked the back of her head. After a long while, he began to chant, strange yet soothing words in a language she did not understand. The fire seemed to roar a bit brighter, the breeze seemed a bit softer against her skin, and his deep voice comforted her as she drifted away into slumber.

* * *

Dawn came, and with it the promise of a new day, free from the troubles of the last. But Vaelyth realized those promises to be false ones, as memories of the previous night flooded her young mind. Her eyes, red and swollen from the suffering she'd endured, sprang anew with tears for her loss, and she shivered next to the embers of the fire in front of her.

"Ah, you're awake," Rhaga called to her from the edge of the clearing as he passed back into its fold. He carried two small rabbits on a spit with him, and he sat down beside her, beginning to skin them. She watched him work in silence for a long moment, then slowly reached out towards his belt, where a second knife hung. He watched her from the corner of his eye, but made no move to stop his work, and she pulled it slowly from its sheath there, seeing the muddled reflection of her face in the blade's dull steel surface. "Careful with that," he whispered as she held it in front of her. "It may look dull, but I make sure to keep it sharp."

She looked up, meeting his gaze for a long moment, then reached down and removed one of the rabbits from the wooden spit, it's warm blood trickling down her hands and across her small knuckles. She gently placed the tip of the knife under its fur, working the blade back and forth to begin skinning it for roasting. Rhaga grunted in approval.

"Steady hands, you've got." She allowed the smallest of smiles to creep across her face.

"My father taught me how," she began, the smallest of sobs wracking her tiny frame. "He...he taught us a lot about the forest. About nature."

"Mmm," Rhaga acknowledged as he worked on his own skinning. "And tell me, what did he teach you?"

She thought for a moment, remembering the tenets of her father's lessons. "'Nature gives and takes, and we must always respect that the feast today may be the famine tomorrow,'" she quoted him. Beside her, Rhaga nodded.

"A wise lesson. My people…" he trailed off for a moment. "Well, those whom I used to call my people, lived in the grassy hills of a place called Nagrand."

"Nagrand," she parroted back to him, feeling the name of the land in her mouth.

"Yes," he replied. "The beasts there…" he shook his head in amazement. "They were something to behold. Each could feed a clan for days at a time. But each was to be respected as well, for no beast takes the knife willingly; another lesson you might wish to learn."

"Your...people," she began.

"Orcs," he added.

"Orcs...were they always…? I mean, they were just…" she trailed off, but he nodded, understanding the unspoken question.

"No. We were a peaceful people once, living in harmony with the land around us. Some of us still are, I imagine. Perhaps back in Nagrand now some of them maintain our old ways." He paused for a moment, letting the silence set in before he broke it once more. "But not these. These are a brutal, vicious lot. They desire conquest and war; things towards which I give no credence." They finished their skinning and cleaning, placing the rabbits back on the spit, which Rhaga set over the fire-pit. He reached out his hand, but Vaelyth seemed to not take notice of his motion, and spoke up before he could cast the spell.

"I can make us a fire," she offered, standing up and walking a short distance away to gather kindling. Rhaga smiled and sat back down, watching her work.

"Can you now?"

"Of course, it's one of the most important things to learn out in the forest," she called back as she leaned over to grab some dry twigs. She looked back at him over her shoulder. "Can't you?"

The orc chuckled. "Oh, I can, yes. But it's been many years since I did it the traditional way." He gestured towards the foliage she held. "Show me what you know."

She continued for another few minutes, then brought everything back to the pit, arranging the kindling just so. She walked over to where Lashi lay in the morning sun, and retrieved a small satchel from the saddlebags he wore. Bringing it back to the pit, she pulled out a slim piece of metal and a chunk of flint. Aiming the two at her arrangement, she struck a few times before the sparks caught. Quietly, Rhaga muttered a spell to still the wind around them, as she leaned in to blow gently against the nascent blaze. It caught after a moment, and with a little stoking by his spells, and she sat back, looking satisfied as the rabbits slowly began to sizzle. After a moment, she looked to him, her wide eyes begging his assessment.

He nodded once, thoroughly. "Well done, I'd say. A fine fire you have there." She smiled, and he patted her on the back.

Once they'd finished their meal, he snuffed out the fire with a call to the air around them, and they ventured out into the forest. Vaelyth had planned to leave for Astranaar immediately, and alone, but the orc had offered his company, and she hadn't turned him down. The lack of any argument surprised him at first, but perhaps it shouldn't have, he thought as they moved through the trees, him walking beside a striding Lashi. He shook his head again at the scarce recollection she had given him of the previous evening's events; if even half of what she'd said were true, his people were truly lost to him. And he to them. For an hour or more they traveled in silence, until at long last she whispered down to him.

"I never said thank you."

Rhaga chuckled to himself. "Well there's no need to." She paused for a moment, staring down at him as he looked up to her.

"Thank you," she said quietly. He only nodded in response.

The sun charted its course through the sky, and they reached the outskirts of Astranaar before it set below the horizon, the orange-hued rays of its setting streaking out from behind the nearby trees to bathe the city in an ethereal glow. They stopped in the woods, and Vaelyth hopped down off of Lashi, stumbling a bit after spending the day in the saddle. Rhaga steadied her with a hand on her back, and she smiled up at him. Quickly, though, the situation seemed to dawn on her, and she frowned. "You're not coming with me, are you?"

Rhaga grimaced as he looked down into her eyes. "I cannot, little sparrow. Your people know mine only as you did not two days ago."

She nodded her head, tears welling in her eyes once again. Rhaga shushed her, kneeling down to be at eye level and placing a large hand on her cheek.

"There, there, little one. All will be well. Soon you'll be back among your people, and they will care for you. Never forget your father, your mother, or your brother. Honor what they stood for; honor who they were."

"Is that what you would do?" she whimpered back to him. He nodded with a smile.

"Among my people, honor and ancestry are of the utmost importance. We remember the dead, that we may live by their example. And in doing so, honor them, and ourselves." He took his hand from her cheek and pressed a finger against her heart. "So long as your family lives in here, they can never be truly taken from you." He expected her to burst into tears again, or fall to the forest floor in sadness, but she startled him then. She stepped forward, reaching her small arms around his neck and squeezing him as tightly as she could. He let out a short laugh of surprise, and held her as well for a long moment before she stepped away.

She wiped her eyes and sniffed at her nose. "Will...will we ever see each other again?"

Rhaga smiled, clapping her on the shoulder. "Little Vaelyth, should you wish to see me again, I daresay that noble Lashi here could bring you right back." She smiled at him, and he at her, then she turned her gaze towards the city, and took Lashi's reins.

"Goodbye, Rhaga," she called out quietly, as she began to move out into the clearing.

" _Lok'tar_ , little Vaelyth," the orc called back with a smile. "Be strong." She nodded, and stepped out of the forest. A group of patrolling elven sentinels spotted her immediately, rushing over to ensure her safety. She was taken back into the town, though not without a few quickly-taken looks back to where he stood. He waited there for her to be out of sight, then sighed, turning and stepping back into the deep woods. He traveled for maybe ten paces, then stopped and turned to look back. Something on the wind had...whispered to him. He closed his eyes and stilled his mind as his master had taught him long ago, but nothing further came, and he began once more the long trek home.

In his heart, he knew: little Vaelyth would be safe, but her life would never be the same.


	3. Chapter 2

**~ 2 ~**

The large bell tolled over the cathedral as dawn broke, scattering a few sparse flocks of birds which had taken up temporary residence within. Six times its single, somber note rang out over the city, indicating the beginning of a new day. Within the winding streets of Stormwind, throngs of people moved like an ebbing sea of life; small work animals bringing stores of supplies to and from different shops in the city, hawkers calling out their wares to anyone who would listen, and small groups of children laughing as they ran among the streets. In the cathedral square, among the yellow-tiled buildings and around the stonework fountain, a small group of priests and acolytes were arranged. Most knelt in prayer to the Light, others admired the fountain as it continued to spray water that almost shimmered in the early morning sunlight, but one stood aside from the rest.

She was a night elf, standing a head taller than most of the others, though she was not the only one of her kind in the group. Her hands, which worked apart a small loaf of bread to feed to the birds that sat around the fountain's edges, were a pale pink in hue, almost the same as her human counterparts, if a bit lighter. She played at feeding the birds, but continued to watch the entrance to the cathedral out of the corner of her eye. Two distinctive and identical tattoos struck like lightning bolts down the front of her face, both above and below each eye, and the deep purple ink that had been used in their creation was as vivid now as the day they had been given her as a child. A few light scars marred their full impact, each one a reminder of a mistake, or misstep, both made and learned from.

The doors of the cathedral began to open, and as she turned her head more fully in that direction, a strand of her snow-white hair fell out of place from within the hood of the golden robes she wore, obstructing her vision. She tucked it back without a thought, and left the remains of the bread on a bench near the fountain, before pulling the hood tighter around her face and joining the retinue of priests and acolytes as they began to file into the building. Two columns of them moved past the great stone archway, and as she walked along with the rest, a nervous human beside her whispered across.

"Good morning! Light, I'm so nervous. I've never actually been in here before, have you?"

She shook her head in response, eager to signal to the man that she wasn't inclined to conversation at the moment. Instead, her eyes scanned the walls, taking in the tapestries and banners that had been hung upon them, and the large, stained-glass windows that glimmered with the light of the morning sun. Unfortunately, he didn't seem to take her hint.

"I mean, you'd think I would have, given that I've lived here my whole life. I just…I don't know, never had a reason to be. Oh, I'm Garret, by the way."

"Ishannah," she replied in the most neutral voice possible, and without looking at him. As they rounded the corner into the main chamber, she saw exits to side rooms, and a small door behind the altar at the front. A few chandeliers hung from the ceiling above, and the morning light filtered in through the glass-work behind the dais ahead, bathing the area in a soft, relaxing glow. The priests began to take seats on the wooden benches within the grand central chamber, and Garret shuffled his way across the line to take a seat next to her. She noticed him sit with a grimace of irritation, and behind the cowl of her hood, rolled her eyes. Garret continued to talk quietly for a while as the rest of them were seated, but she wasn't hearing him, instead analyzing the room. Eventually, a bishop walked to the podium and began to speak.

"Good morning, brothers and sisters in the Light." A round of assent came back to him from the gathered crowd, and he smiled, a gesture that fully reached his eyes and the graying hair around his temples. "To our priests who have ventured far and wide in order to bring new members to the order, we thank you with all the fervor we can. And to the new acolytes in attendance, we welcome you into the arms of the church; know that the path you have chosen, while at times challenging, will bring you a lifetime of virtue and good will from the people of our great Alliance. I commend you for your decision, and wish you the very best in today's initial training." He nodded once, then stepped away from the podium, and priests from the edges of the room began to step forward, separating the newcomers into small groups to give tours of the building. She was led into a group away from Garret, who looked towards her pleadingly as his only "friend" in the room, and she merely shrugged in feigned apology as their group was led away and into one of the side chambers.

Their guide talked at length about the history of the room and its contents, then led them through a narrow staircase at the back and into one of the upper chambers; a library whose walls stood lined with books of age unimaginable. After another lengthy discussion, the group began to move out of the room, and she allowed herself to hang towards the back of it. When the last person in front of her left, she turned her body to the side, standing flat against the inside wall as their guide came back to close the door behind them. On her previous visits, under the auspices of praying for her family, she'd timed the tour routes, and knew she had mere minutes before another group came in behind the one in which she'd been, and she crossed the room quickly as soon as the door was closed.

As she moved, she pulled off the robe, revealing her leather armor underneath. It clung tightly to her form, and was as worn-in as an old glove. She had owned it for longer than she could remember, and so grimaced again as she looked down at the white-washing job that had been performed on her boots and the gloves she retrieved from behind her belt. Her eyes narrowed in irritation; if that damned gnome couldn't remove this afterward as he'd said he could…she shook her head, re-focusing on the task at hand.

The private library in which she stood had a single window that looked out over the back-half of the city. In the distance, she could see the harbor, and the many ships that slowly moved to and from its docks. She unlatched and opened the window, allowing the morning breeze to bring her the smell of salt water and the chirping of birds from the nearby garden district, then reached into a small pouch on her belt and retrieved a pair of spiked climbing grips, also bleached in white. She took the robe she'd been wearing and turned it inside-out before putting it back on; the shimmering golden side now pressed against her while the inner white faced outward. She pulled a white bandana from around her neck upwards to cover the bottom half of her face, slipped on the grips, and in one fluid motion swung herself out of the window and onto the stone facade of the cathedral.

She looked immediately to the skies for gryphon riders, and to the streets for any guards who may have been more alert than usual. Seeing neither in her immediate vicinity, she pushed the window shut with the toe of her boot, and began the long ascent up the side of the building. She took her time, ensuring her hold and footing before moving another step up the wall, and continuously scanned for anyone who noticed her. In her all-white gear, on the side of the building, she seemed to blend in well enough, and made the trip to her target window above without incident. She clung tightly to the side of the building, and slowly moved her head into the corner of the window, peering inward with her glowing white eyes. The room beyond had dark blue carpeting, with bookshelves lining the walls, and a single wooden desk with a chair. On the far side stood a solitary entryway, and a small wall recess with a stone-carved bust. She pulled her left arm off the side of the building, flicking her wrist, and a small wire device sprang into her hand. It was a long metal wire, hooked at its end, and she reached over to the window, laying it flat and attempting to snake it under the base of the frame. After a few minutes' work, she was able to slide the wire between the two panes of the window, and heard it unlatch from within. She dragged the wire back to the base, embedding the hook into the wooden frame of the pane, and gently pulled outward. The near half of the window followed, and she reached up to open the other half and climb inside.

She dropped immediately into a crouch and listened, pushing down the pounding of blood in her ears. Hearing no alarm bells or shouting guards, she stood again with a small sigh of relief, turning and closing the window behind her. She removed her metal grips, tucking them neatly back into the pouch in her belt, and pulled down her hood. The rear portion of her hair fell back into place around her neck, while those strands that could get in her way remained in the ponytail behind her head. She crossed the room, searching the recess in the wall for the relic, but seeing it nowhere. Her face scrunched up in annoyance behind her mask, and she turned, scanning the rest of the room for a place where it might be kept. She searched the bookshelves and the desk, but could not find it, and just as she was about to leave empty-handed, and with a tirade prepared for Kalos, she heard footsteps approaching. Quickly scanning the single, open room revealed no cover spots, and she growled softly before flipping herself up on top of a bookshelf, and pulling herself up into the rafters above, her legs spread apart and balancing her weight onto two separate wooden beams. Her hands shot to the small of her back, resting on the well-padded hilts of the daggers she kept there, and she peered down intensely into the room as the figure entered.

He was an older man in heavy armor, with white hair that fell to crest his shoulders. A moustache and short-trimmed beard adorned his face, and he carried himself with great purpose. None of that registered to her, though; what he held did. A tome of prayers and personal notes, with a gilded binding, lay open in his hands as he walked and read. He came to a stop before the recess and sighed heavily, closing the tome and placing his hand gingerly upon its surface.

"So many lessons to teach," he spoke softly, "I only wish you were here to teach me more, Turalyon." After a long moment, he set the book gently into the recess, and turned to leave. Before he could, however, she heard more rapidly approaching footsteps, and tensed at their urgency.

"Tirion?" someone called out from the hallway beyond the doorway. A young voice, she noted.

"In here, lad," the older man called back, and moved to stand in the doorway.

"By the Light, I'm glad I caught you," replied the younger man, who remained obscured in the hallway beyond. "Father said you were preparing to head out again; I was worried I wouldn't get to see you first."

"See me?" the older man replied. "Whatever for?"

"All I know of you are the stories that are told, not all of them flattering, I'm afraid," the young man responded. "I wanted to hear them from your point of view, to understand why you made the choices you did."

Tirion chuckled. "Well, I certainly can't decline an offer from such an open mind, can I?" He sighed once more, softer this time. "I was just taking in some knowledge from an old friend; a little spiritual fortification before venturing back out."

"To Hearthglen, then?" the boy replied.

"No, I'm afraid I still wouldn't receive a warm welcome in my old home. Likely to Light's Hope. They have need of help there, with the increased undead presence in the region. Hearthglen has remained relatively untouched, but for some reason attacks against Light's Hope have heightened."

"What do you think is behind it?"

"Oh, who's to say, lad? The undead are strange creatures to us, we simply do the best we can to protect others from them." A long pause hung between them and the cathedral's bell began to peal again suddenly. It startled her, and she almost lost her footing, but regained it at the last moment, and cursed herself for her loss of awareness. Seven times it tolled out, and the older man spoke again. "Almost time for me to leave. Come now, I must finish preparations, but we can talk on the way there, yes?"

"Of course," the young man replied, and she heard their retreating footsteps down the hallway beyond. She waited there in the rafters for a long moment before dropping to the floor, bending her knees and reaching down a gloved hand to mute the sound of her fall. She peered down the hallway, seeing no one, and crossed to the recess, reaching out for the tome. Her long, slender fingers brushed its surface, playing at the detailed metalwork of the golden cover, and she shook her head, picking it up and wrapping it in cloth before slipping it into the small knapsack she'd brought with her. She slung the band of it over her shoulder and crossed to the window, reaching out to open it once more.

"You know, I'd give you a sermon about how those among the Light feel about thievery, but I imagine you already know how it would go," the voice called out from behind her, and she spun in place, seeing the older man, Tirion, standing in the doorway. Behind him, the younger man seemed to peer over his shoulder, confusion apparent in his features. She stood facing them, one hand on the window but saying nothing in response, and after a short moment of silence, he seemed to read her mind, rushing forward and drawing his blade, a simple two-handed sword that gleamed in the morning light. She dodged to the side, pulling her daggers from behind her back as the boy yelled out in alarm. "Stay back, Anduin!" the older man growled as he swung for her again. She parried, angling her dagger to thrust the momentum of his lunge in a different direction. Her knives would not hold up to his sword in an even collision, she knew, and so she danced and weaved around him, constantly attempting to keep him off balance. Once she had her back to the window once more, she ducked under an attack and shoved him viciously with her shoulder, sending him tumbling backwards over the room's single chair and onto the floor, then sprinted for the window.

"No!" cried the young man, extending his hand. Her momentum was halted by a glowing barrier that now separated her from her only reasonable form of escape, and she whipped her head around to glare at him. The older man began to scramble to his feet, and she reached to her belt, grabbing a smoke grenade there and hurling it towards the hallway.

"Anduin!" the older man yelled, unsure of what she'd thrown, and he rushed for the doorway instead of toward his foe, reaching the boy just as the grenade erupted. Thick, white smoke began to pour out of it and engulf the hallway, and the two men began coughing up a fit. She looked back to the window, and the barrier shimmered slightly, then winked out of existence. She quickly replaced her daggers, grabbing one of her climbing grips out and slipping it over her right hand. The man's sword had slashed the strap of her knapsack, it barely held together by a thread, and so she held it with her left hand as she threw open the window and leaped out, catching her hand against the side of the building. She began to slide rapidly down the face of the structure, and tried controlling her speed with her boot pressed against its surface, but it seemed to make little difference.

"Shit, shit, shit!" She muttered harshly, as the cobblestone streets rushed up to meet her. Looking frantically around her below, she saw a thick patch of greenery, and hurled the knapsack off her shoulder and down towards it. She fumbled frantically at her belt, retrieving the other grip and deftly slipping it on one-handed before slamming her left hand back into the stone siding of the building. She dug in with everything she had to slow her fall, but very quickly ran out of wall to grab, and slipped off the side of the cathedral. She yelped in surprise as she fell the final few meters to the ground, landing with a harsh  _thud_  on the cobblestone, just beside a small fishmonger's stall. Her head swam with stars, and she was pretty sure her arm was broken, but she pushed the pain aside and scrambled to her feet among the shocked citizens who had been walking by. Rushing into the bushes, she found the tome and reached for it, sizzling pain shooting up into her shoulder.  _Yep,_  she thought,  _definitely broken._  She grabbed the knapsack with her other hand and took off down the street, ducking into the nearest alleyway as she heard shouting guards burst forth from the cathedral entrance.

"Oh, quick job," she muttered to herself as she angrily ripped off her acolyte's robes and tossed them aside, "In and out, nothing to worry about." She slipped off her grips and replaced them in her belt pouch, then slung the knapsack back over her shoulder with a grimace of pain. "Building full of Light-blinded fools; how hard could it possibly be?" she continued, as she scanned the street beyond the alleyway for any sign of opposition. "I'm going to fucking kill that gnome…" she finished, shaking her head and sprinting out across into the open. Her arm screamed at her, and people gasped as she rushed by, but she blew past them, focused on her escape. She rounded a corner at breakneck pace and her eyes shot open wide as she jumped into the air, somersaulting over a pack of children who had been making their way toward the district.

"Whoooa!" they all called out in unison awe as she landed behind them and kept sprinting. A few minutes, a few alleyways, and a few very close calls with patrolling guards later, she slipped between two buildings in the Mage District and into a small tavern, pulling down her mask as she nodded to the bartender and passed into a back room. The gruff man returned the gesture and allowed her to pass unimpeded. The room was dimly lit, only a single candle burned in the corner, and the man in dark blue robes stood shakily to greet her.

"Heeeey, Vae," he called out. "You're back again!"

"You're drunk again," she replied, narrowing her eyes. Her dark purple lips twisted up in irritation.

"Don't have to b- _*hic*_ -be sober to cast spells, now do I?"

"It certainly couldn't hurt," she answered tersely. "Are we going to do this, or do you need another bottle first?"

"Hey now," he called out, pointing an accusing finger that twitched left and right. "No need to be grumpy, either of you." She rolled her eyes. "Yea, yea, I've got it." The man reached out and chanted a few words, conjuring up a portal that hung shimmering in the middle of the room. On the other side lay a pitch-black vault, and a door with a single slot in its surface at eye-level. Vae nodded and placed five golden crowns on his desk before looking at him.

"We good?" she asked.

His eyes found their way, eventually, to the coinage, and widened at the amount. "Five? Shit, Vae what'd you…what, ah…you know what, never mind. I don't think I wanna know…" He hiccuped again, then balled up a fist to cover up a burp before speaking. "Yea, we're good."

"And I wasn't here," she replied. It was not a question.

He laughed a little too loudly in response. "You? Vae, for five crowns, I don't even know who you are."

She nodded to him, and stepped through the portal. It snapped shut behind her a moment later, and the full darkness of the room enveloped her. Beyond the door, through the now-closed eye slot, she could hear lutes playing and drums beating, accompanied by the too-familiar tones of drunken revelry, but instead of rushing to join, she sank to one knee, breathing deeply and exhaling the stress of the job. She slowly slipped the knapsack from her shoulder, wincing again at the pain it brought on, and unwrapped the cloth, tracing the patterns of the tome once more. She found a shelf nearby and placed it delicately, then retrieved a small glowing rune from her belt pouch. She held it to the tome, and a brief golden light shimmered all around it, marking it as her property to anyone who would be tempted to pry. She replaced the rune and gave the tome one last glance before dusting off her armor and opening the door.

The full blast of the sound and light hit her, as some thirty denizens of the Bay cajoled amidst tables of drinks. Conversation, loud and boisterous, flooded her from all sides, and she looked around, spotting her team at a table across the room. She crossed to them, after nodding to the imposing tauren vault guard as she closed the door behind her, and they saw her coming.

"The hero returns," Kalos called out in his proper Sin'dorei clip. "A little worse for wear, are we?" His high cheekbones and warm green eyes belied the amusement he clearly got from her disheveled state, and his long golden hair, pulled back into a topknot, shook on the top of his head as he chuckled at her. She glared at him as she dropped unceremoniously into the chair he'd pushed out for her with his boot, and his mask of glowing humor seemed to drop immediately, replaced by one of true concern. "What happened?"

"Get Rhaga," she replied, reaching forward and taking his mug of ale before downing a long pull from it.

"Sure," he said. "What should I tel—"

"Get," she interrupted him, staring him in the eyes, "Rhaga."

"Yea, of course." He turned from her without another word, standing and walking out of the common room at a rapid pace, and she slid her glance slowly across the table, coming to rest on the gnome.

"H-Hey, Vae…" he trailed off, unsure of the look he was receiving. "D-Do you want some he—" she whipped out one of her daggers and slammed it into the table in front of his face. He swallowed loudly.

"Bad intel," she growled, pulling the knife out and slamming it into the table again a few inches closer. "Bad plan." Again, she worked the knife out and slammed it home; this time the hilt of the weapon bounced off the tip of his nose as it wobbled in the table-top. "Bad execution." She finished Kalos's drink and placed the mug back in front of his chair before holding eye contact with the gnome. She reached across and took his mug as well, staring him down while she drank the entire contents of the cup and tossed it to him. He caught it, bewildered, and gently put it back on the table. "Ten," she muttered at last, and his face scrunched up in dismay.

"What?! Come on, Vae, you promised me at least twenty! I've got kids to feed, here!"

She chuckled. "You absolutely do not, Zillix, and if you think for a second I'll believe that garbage story, you haven't been around me long enough."

"Fifteen?" he pleaded, and she laughed aloud. Was the world getting foggy, or just her vision?

"I fought two-on-one with a well-trained fighter and a less-trained priest, fell off the Light-blasted cathedral, broke my arm, and had to shell out five crowns because, of all days, you picked a day where Maerik was on portal duty."

"Ah, damn it…" Zillix whispered harshly under his breath. He put his head into his hands, the wild strands of his black hair like an off-colored grass as they shot up from between his clenched fingers.

"Yea," she replied condescendingly, "'damn it.'" She continued to stare down the gnome, and eventually he shrugged his shoulders, slumping back in his seat.

"Alright fine, ten."

"Good boy," she cooed back to him.

"Yea, yea, shove it up your ass, Vae. And you're buying the next round, seeing as you just obliterated this one."

She chuckled again, the action sending more pain to her shoulder. "Deal."

"Making bargains without me, are we?" Rhaga called out to her as he approached, with Kalos in tow. She turned her head to regard him with a smile, and had to blink a few times as the world shook in her vision. The old orc let out a dismayed grunt, leaning in and opening her eyelids with his dull green fingers. He raised up a finger for her to follow, and had she been able to decipher which of the three that she saw he wanted her to trace, she might have been able to. "I think she's in shock," he stated after stepping back. "What happened to her?"

"Fought some guys, fell off a building, broke her arm, got stiffed on a portal price," Zillix replied. "That's the gist of it."

"And you're letting her drink?" he replied, with no small amount of irritation.

"Hey, I didn't  _let_  her do anything, Rhaga." Zillix laughed, gesturing to the dagger still embedded in the table top just before his face, and after a moment flicking the handle to send it wobbling once again. "You know Vae."

"That I do," he replied, leaning down to put an arm around her. "Alright, Sparrow, up you go."

She winced at the pain as he lifted her out of her chair and led her away from the noise and the crowd, into a side room. He set her down gently on a bench within, waving his hand to light a series of candles on the far wall. "It's not that bad…" she trailed off, the alcohol beginning to kick in.

Rhaga chuckled in response. "You wait ten seconds and then tell me that."

"Ten wha-?" He shoved her arm back into place with a loud  _pop_ , and she shrieked in pain. It stabbed at her shoulder like a white-hot knife, and soon the shrieks devolved into pained growls and glares that held death for anyone who beheld them; anyone but Rhaga.

"Shh, Sparrow. It's all going to be fine," he called out quietly, running his hands over her shoulder. She could see the green glow of his shamanistic magic slowly pulling away the intense bruising that had marred her skin, and she felt suddenly quite tired, leaning her head back against the wall as he continued to work.

"I'm not a Sparrow," she muttered under her breath.

He chuckled again, pausing his quiet chanting. "Yes, I know. You're an albatross, a monstrous kaliri, a great windroc full of cunning and fury."

She smiled and looked at him out of the corner of her eyes, which were quickly growing heavier. "That's right."

He smiled back, continuing his work at mending her bones and flesh. "But you'll always be a little Sparrow to me, Vaelyth."

She shook her head slowly, but closed her eyes and smiled. She knew he was right, and she owed him that much. If not for Rhaga, the stubborn old orc…she'd have never lived to see the tail-end of Ashenvale. She thought back to the night they'd met, and all the time they'd spent together since, then leaned forward, resting her head on his shoulder, and let the softly spoken words of his ancient healing lull her to sleep once again.


	4. Chapter 3

**~ 3 ~**

The fresh ocean breeze commingled with the dulcet calls of seagulls over the heads of the rabble below in the morning streets of Booty Bay, the sun's early light glancing here and there off the tips of small, lapping waves as they made their way toward the shore. The entire city sat bathed in a soft orange hue, and Vaelyth closed her eyes with a smile, taking in a deep breath and feeling the essence of the sea wind its way deep into her lungs. She exhaled after a long moment, holding the feeling within her chest, and when her eyes finally opened, her smile sat even bigger than it had before across her purple lips.

"Oh yea, I'm sure it smells  _real_  good and all, but do we have a deal, or what?" Her face scrunched up a bit in annoyance for a fraction of a second at the goblin's words, and she shot him a sharp look before pointing her gaze back down to examine the blade she held. Its handle was a strong amaranth wood, wrapped sparingly in tough, treated leather so that the grain still showed through the straps. The blade reached out in a wicked curve, stretching some twelve or thirteen inches past the guard, and she gripped it tight in one hand, feeling the weight of it. She flicked it across the back of her knuckles and spun it around her wrist, rays of morning light dancing off it's surfaces in every direction as it flowed like water around her arm. For a few seconds she let it continue to dance, every so often closing her fingers around the handle and making a quick slash before sending it back to spinning. In one fluid motion, she flexed her wrist upwards, sending it a few inches into the air as it flipped, grabbed the handle on its descent, and drove it down deeply into the wooden table behind which the blacksmith stood. She stepped back, watching it stand completely still, embedded in the table, and nodded approvingly.

"I'll take it," she said, and the goblin grinned as he reached down to retrieve its scabbard from under the table.

"I knew you would," he called up to her as he dug through his stores to find it. "The second you walked up to this booth, I thought to myself: 'Grizzen, now  _there's_  a lady who's really about her business. She's someone you wanna show your absolute best stock to.' Hand to the Light, I thought the words in my head."

Vaelyth chuckled softly, her head shaking at the goblin's obvious lie, but her mouth twisting up in an amused grin at the convincing job he was doing in selling it. She reached down and retrieved the fifteen crowns they'd agreed upon, and placed them on the table just as the goblin came back up with the blade's sheath. It was a beautiful dark leather, a brown so dark as to almost be mistaken for black. It took her breath away for a moment, and he had to offer it to her twice before she shook out of her stupor, reaching forward with a muffled apology to take it. Grizzen cackled.

"Yea, I can tell you like that. Tell you what," he whispered, leaning across the table, "you land another five crowns on the table and I can get that enchanted for you  _real_  good-like. Blade'll cut steel like butter by the time my guy's done with it."

"Oh yea?" she asked halfheartedly. "Who's your guy, then?"

Grizzen whistled sharply, and a clanging could be heard from within the small hut behind him that, she assumed, served as his home. A moment later, a familiar figure appeared in the doorway, his eyes half-lidded, and a metal bucket hanging lopsided off the side of his head.

"Heeeey, Vae!"

"Oh, absolutely not," she said, physically withdrawing from the booth with a full-bodied laugh. "Thanks Grizzen, but I'm good with just the base model." She winked at the goblin as he covered his face with the large palm of his hand, his head shaking in embarrassment, and she sheathed the blade, strolling away from his stand to the sound of his berating Maerik for, once again, being piss-drunk while on the job. She shook her head at the sound, the smile still cresting her lips. The morning was beautiful, she had picked up a wonderful new blade, and at a price she was sure was less than half what Lucen would have had her pay, and she was sure that absolutely nothing could ruin her day.

"Well, well, well," came a gruff voice from her right, and her eyes instinctively rolled so hard that for a moment she could have sworn her retinas were actually sore afterwards. "If it isn't the sweetest piece of ass in all the Bay." She slowed to a stop, turning and folding her arms across her chest as she looked at the figure seated on top of the gunpowder barrel. He was a human, with short black hair that seemed to spike dangerously off the top of his head above a blood red headband. A thick stubble, also black, traced its way across his jaw and above his upper lip, and the whiskey he'd just sipped from the small jug in his hand clung to it in tiny droplets before he wiped it off with the back of his gloved hand. He was dressed in a black leather ensemble that both armored and accentuated his physique; toned and deadly. That much, she would not deny him. In fact, she thought, she was sure she would need more than two hands to immediately rattle off the first few harlots in the Bay that came to her mind who thought he was the Light's own gift to their bedchambers. She was not among them.

He chuckled at her notice, a deep, rumbling sound that seemed almost too low to come from the mouth of a man such as him. "Hey, Vae."

"Hey yourself, Therinn," she replied evenly. "Still checking out my ass, are we?" It earned another chuckle.

"Every day my eyes still work, darlin'." He hopped down off the barrel, sauntering over to her and standing just a bit too close. She could smell the cheap whiskey on his breath when he spoke again. "Word's going around you're looking for Lucen; set up a buy, I imagine." He took another swig from the bottle. "Whatcha sellin', love? Ancient Kal'dorei weapon? Some dusty old general's war-mace? Maybe just a single, lovely night with you?" His finger traced the ridge of her shoulder, and she moved like lightning, spinning away to his left while grabbing his hand around the wrist. She stepped once, twice, and locked his arm behind him while pushing upwards. He grunted in pain, just once, then laughed.

"Well Light burn me, darlin', if you're that fast out here in the streets, I'd kill a man to see your moves behind closed doors." She twisted his wrist harder, and he winced at the pain before nodding. "Alright, alright, I take your point." She let him go, walking back around to stand in front of him once more. He shook out his arm before bringing his wrist back close to his chest and rubbing it, a wicked grin on his lips. "Damn me, but you're  _gorgeous_  when you're angry." She rolled her eyes once more, failing to be surprised that yet again, he was unable to think past his dick in conversation, and shook her head.

"Oh Therinn, you haven't even started to get me angry yet. It's a sight you wouldn't be too happy to see."

He winked at her. "Duly noted." He reached down, picking up the small jug he'd dropped in her assault, and shook it, hearing only the slightest sloshing of liquid within. Shrugging, he tossed it behind him into the vegetation next to the large tavern before which they stood. "Anyway, you're in luck; word has it Lucen's already in town."

"Yea?"

"Mmhmm," he replied, climbing back up on top of the barrel. "If my contacts are right, and I sure as shit pay them to be, he's down by the market. Probably trying to unload all those 'legitimate' relics you scabbers bring him on a regular basis." She bristled slightly at the derogatory term, but kept her cool, and her eyes narrowed for only a moment. It was enough. He chuckled as he leaned back against the wall. "You ever get tired of sneakin' in buildings and taking people's property out of their homes, you come to ol' Therinn. He can get you set up on a proper buccaneer's vessel."

"So I can take people's property out of their hulls instead?" She finished for him, and he laughed once more.

"Oh yea, much more honorable, and all that."

"I'm sure." She turned away from him, peering down the wooden walkway for any sign of her fence, but the throngs of moving traffic made the gesture impossible. "Alright, I'll go find him. Thanks for the help, Therinn." She paused for a moment, walking away before turning and walking backwards to address him once more. "Very…out of character, for you."

"Let it never be said Therinn don't help a lady in need!" he called back over the bustle of the Bay. "Especially one pretty as you, Vae!" he whistled after her, and she shot him a sly wink in return. He put a hand to his heart and fell back against the side of the building as if shot, and she laughed as she turned back around, walking toward the crowd of people in the market area of the Bay.

Rhaga fell into step with her as she walked past a stretch of personal homes, his demeanor casual but his eyes boring into the side of her face as she looked straight ahead, searching for Lucen. After a long moment of silence, he spoke. "Therinn giving you trouble again?"

She chuckled, standing up on her toes and craning her neck to look over the heads of those whom, for the most part, she was already just a bit taller than. It worked, and she saw Lucen's matted green hair a little way further up the walk. She came back down, turning to meet the old orc's gaze with a smile. "Nothing I can't handle."

He grunted in disapproval. "One day, it might be."

She opened her mouth in feigned offense. "Careful there, I'll start to think you have no faith in my abilities." Rhaga stared at her sternly for another few seconds, then shook his head as his admonishing face fell away into a soft smile.

"I taught you a great many things about combat and subtlety, Vaelyth," he began as they turned to walk together through the crowd, "but that incredible overconfidence; I've no idea where you picked that up."

She chuckled, gripping the hilt of her new blade with ease as they walked. "Must be a night elf thing," she said, winking across at him. He grunted again, but it devolved into a laugh.

"Must be," he ceded. They walked together for a while, and his eyes drifted down to her belt. "Another new blade, hmm?" She sighed audibly.

"Please don't lecture me on it, alright? I figure once this deal goes through with Lucen, we'll be just fine on coin, and after what happened I just wanted to tr—" she cut herself off at his upheld hand.

"It looks like solid steel," he said with a quiet smile. Warmth filled her chest, and she put an arm around his bare shoulders as they walked.

"Shit, Rhaga, you know just how to make a girl's day."

They walked further along the path, slowly weaving through the crowd to get to where Lucen stood. She could see him clearly now, deep in conversation with a group of goblins while showing off a wicked-looking blade. Its edge was serrated, with sharp jagged teeth, and for an instant she was transported back in time, to a stable in the dead of night, the sound of an orcish warblade ringing off the edge of an elegant elven knife. She closed her eyes and shuddered, pushing the memory away and forcing herself to smile at the familiar denizens of the Bay who recognized her as they passed by the pair of them. Still, Rhaga seemed to sense her unease, his hand finding its way to the small of her back and squeezing gently.

She beamed down at him, then spotted a servant, likely to one of the wealthier merchants in the Bay, rushing past them with a tray full of drinks. She slipped herself to the side as he passed, leaning over in one fluid motion to swipe two of the cups unnoticed, and offered one to Rhaga, who shook his head in exasperation. "Vaelyth…"

"What?" she replied in mock innocence. "It's the Bay, you know the rules."

"There are hardly any rules here," he replied gruffly.

"My point exactly," she said with a smile as she took a drink from the cup. Rhaga shook his head at her, but eventually began to drink as well. A few minutes later they stood behind Lucen as he showed off, thankfully, a different item he was interested in selling. A skull, by the look of it, which he claimed had belonged to one of the two heads of Grimnoch Hammerstone, an ancient and powerful ogre. Vaelyth could barely contain a giggle as she listened to him harp on and on in his gravelly undead voice about the mystical powers contained within, and when one of the goblins finally jumped at the opportunity to buy it, he waved them all away, finished with everything he'd brought to sell. He turned around, nearly running into her, and shook his head.

"Stop sneaking up on me, Vae."

She grinned. "Afraid I'll scare you to death one of these days?" She nudged Rhaga in the ribs for approval, but the old orc simply shook his head. She did, however, notice the makings of a small smile on his face. Lucen, for his part, sighed heavily.

"That wasn't funny the first time you said it, and it hasn't failed to disappoint every time since."

"Oh, someone's in a mood," she shot back to him as the three of them turned and continued to walk among the crowd, although it had thinned a bit now that his show was over. He grunted.

" _You_  fly overnight from Undercity to get here before the goblins take off and then tell me if you'd be in a chipper mood." He looked over to meet her eyes for a moment, then shook his head. "Who am I kidding? Of course you would be."

She laughed, shaking her head. "I'd think you'd love to be out of Undercity, Lucen. From what I hear it's all gloom and doom around there."

He shrugged as if to agree. "It's certainly no Orgrimmar, I'll give you that. Though you may be surprised to find out that a few living beings actually like it there. One or two have even made it their permanent home, I daresay."

A shiver ran through Vaelyth's body, and she shrugged it off. "Weirdos…" she muttered.

"I take it you didn't seek me out just to deride my home?" Vaelyth winced, he really was in a dour mood. She shook her head at his glancing stare.

"The last contract you sent out, came by…creepy bat thing…last week. We've got it."

"Oh, good, then you can get to work acquiring it for me," he replied as he walked. "Good luck with that one, by the way, won't be the easiest job you've had by far. I told them when I took the order that it was likely to never be fulfilled, but they—" he stopped as Vaelyth put a hand on his bony shoulder.

"No, you're not hearing me, Lucen," she interrupted him, waiting until he turned fully to look her in the eye. She gave him her most winning grin. "We've got it." His eyes slowly widened as her meaning washed over him, and what she could only assume was a smile crossed over his ragged lips. He chuckled then, a sound almost completely foreign to Vaelyth's ears, and clapped her on the shoulder.

"Oh, well done! Well done indeed. And faster than anyone could have expected! What did you…who did you have to…ah, no no," he interrupted himself, waving his hands as if to disperse his own thoughts. "It doesn't matter. You have it, here in the Bay?" She nodded, and his smile-thing grew even wider, if it were possible. "Excellent. I'll reach out to my contacts. The normal place? Say tomorrow at dusk? These people, they seem to have a way of being everywhere at once, and let me tell you Vae, they are  _very_  interested in that tome."

"How interested are we talking?" she quipped. Lucen chuckled again.

"Pack your bags, Vae," he told her with a conspiratory tone. "Once this deal goes through, I imagine you'll never need to take another job again."

* * *

The cove stood quiet and calm, the small waves of low tide lapping calmly against the sandy beaches outside Booty Bay. The skies out above the sea looked almost hand-painted, a swirling canopy of deep reds, vibrant purples, and the occasional orange tint as the sun passed the halfway point on its descent below the horizon. Vaelyth sat atop a large boulder at the back-end of the beach, just where it began to meet the jungle floor, balancing four small rocks on each of the knuckles of her left hand. She tensed and flexed the muscles individually, keeping each pebble balanced perfectly on her light pink skin, then sighed audibly and swiped her hand to the side, sending them all dancing across the ground like tiny shards of glass.

"Agreed," Kalos chimed in from where he stood against a palm trunk a few feet away. "I had thought Lucen would be here by now." He looked back down to his large broadsword before slowly dragging the sharpening stone across its edge once again.

"Are you planning on using that sword, pretty boy, or taking it out on a date when we're done here?" Zillix called over with a giggle. Kalos glared at him, but the gnome only laughed harder, and the sin'dorei shook his head and went back to work. Losing his target, Zillix tapped his fingers on the sand where he sat before hopping up. "He's probably already in the cave. What if he's spinning some story to cut us out of the deal?" Panic had seeped into his voice, and Vaelyth laughed quietly at him as Rhaga spoke up.

"Lucen wouldn't try it. We've been partners for too long. Besides, Vae runed-locked the tome, he couldn't hand it off without her approval, even if he wanted to." He looked over to her. "Unless you've got something you want to tell us, Sparrow?"

She grinned back at him, feigning a reclining stretch as she spoke. "Well, you all know how very much I love gold. I figure, the more the merrier. The more for me, that is." She lay back on the rock with her fingers interlaced behind her head, her knapsack with its freshly-stitched strap draping down over the side of the boulder.

"Not funny," Kalos mumbled. Zillix simply laughed again.

They waited for another half hour with no sign of Lucen, and tempers began to run high. After a lengthy discussion, they decided to head into the cave together and see if Zillix had perhaps been right. Rhaga opened his hand as they entered, summoning a flame that burned quietly in the air above his palm. It gave them some illumination, but the darkness of the cave seemed to press back against the light it emitted, and Rhaga's face showed a strained confusion.

"There is something…unnatural in this place," he whispered to them as they pressed forward. The walls were damp, with moss growing heavily across their marred surface. Vaelyth wasn't afraid, not necessarily, they had used this cave for deals and tradeoffs innumerable in the past few years. Still, she took Rhaga's word, and what's more she felt it. Something…wrong. They walked along further, entering the large cavernous heart of the cave. Six large torches sat in a ring at the center, and a tall human in black robes turned to greet them as they entered.

"Ah, you must be the…respectable businessmen we were told to expect." His words were pleasant enough, but his voice was laced with venom, and Vaelyth could feel the hair on the back of her neck standing on edge. Unconsciously, she gripped the strap of her knapsack just a bit tighter. She cleared her throat to speak, but Rhaga stepped forward.

"We are. I am Rhaga, of Garadar, and these are my crew. Where is Lucen?" Vaelyth's eyes widened slightly at this seldom-seen side of her old mentor. His words were less question and more demand, but for his part the human simply smiled a bit deeper.

"Lovely, truly." He began to walk towards them, lowering his hood to reveal graying-white hair, brushed back atop of the crown of his head. His skin was akin to old parchment, thin and seemingly translucent as it stretched uncomfortably across his gaunt cheekbones. He smiled, true enough, but the gesture came nowhere close to reaching his eyes, which sat like dark coals in their sockets as he appraised them all. "I am Arzenius, First of my Temple." He paused for effect, but did not seem disappointed when he received none. "I am your buyer."

"Good," Rhaga replied sternly. "But that doesn't answer my question."

Arzenius chuckled, a singularly malicious sound that emanated seemingly from somewhere far beyond the back of his throat. He spread his hands open wide. "I ask you then, Rhaga of Garadar, would Lucen not have taken a sizeable portion of your wages for this mission? This…highly dangerous mission, from which I have been told one of you sustained rather serious injuries." His eyes all but slid across his field of vision to land on Vaelyth's, and she swallowed quietly, meeting his gaze levelly. He seemed impressed at her resolve, giving her the curtest of nods before returning his gaze to Rhaga. "I offer you your full wage, in exchange for what you bring, plus a certain…lack of curiosity…about your friend."

Rhaga's eyes narrowed. "You don't make it as long as we have in this business by stabbing contacts in the back," he nearly growled at Arzenius. Tension hung between them for a moment, and then out of nowhere Arzenius laughed, low and deep, as he dropped his arms in mock surrender.

"Interesting that you use that turn of phrase," he noted with a pointing finger, before dragging it back towards the ring of torches in the middle of the cavern. "Because, as you see, I've already done that  _for_  you."

The sight in the middle of the room, which had until now been blocked by Arzenius's body, was now visible to all as he stepped aside. Inside the ring, Lucen lay face-down against the stone floor. A bag containing countless gold pieces lay scattered beside him, their surfaces flickering with sheen in the light of the torches. From his back, the hilt of a large dagger protruded, its blade a silvery metal that seemed to flow between shades of gray and black even as Vaelyth's eyes moved over its surface. Along the flat of the dagger, a series of runes glowed in an icy blue light, both beautiful and chilling, and she felt her blood almost freeze in her veins just to behold them.

"That one," continued Arzenius, as he stepped back into their field of view, "has information we would  _dearly_  like to know. Although, he didn't seem very willing to relinquish it." He shrugged. "So, we'll need to take it by force." He paused for a moment, his face contorting into a mask of feigned shock. "I…I trust that won't be a problem, will it?" The situation felt all wrong to Vaelyth, and she hesitated, taking an involuntary step back, to which Arzenius clicked his tongue softly.

"Now, now," he called out quietly to her. "Let's not have any of that. After all, we can each still get what we want."

"No," Rhaga whispered, "I don't believe we can." The two stared daggers at each other for a long moment, then Rhaga spoke to her without removing his gaze from Arzenius. "Sparrow, did you remember to bring the letter?"

She heard his signal and, just as every other time before, nodded in assent, reaching down to search her belt pockets for a letter that did not exist. Instead, as soon as her hands reached the leather strap around her waist, she flicked them backwards, taking two of her throwing knives in each hand and hurling them forward towards the human. They flew truly, and just before they embedded themselves into Arzenius's body, he moved with unnatural speed, raising a hand in their direction. As he did, a pale blue light enveloped his fingers, and her daggers disintegrated into a thin dusting of ice, which rushed forward unimpeded, harmlessly blowing across the front of his robes.

Kalos and Zillix were already on the move, the former charging in with a battle cry, and a pair of ethereal golden wings erupting from under his long red cloak. He swung his deadly sharp blade at the human, who seemed to…shimmer…to the side and out of harm's way. As Kalos passed by him, Zillix threw out his own hand, summoning a thick shard of ice that dripped with crystalline offshoots, and rocketed it toward the man. He smiled, holding out his other hand, and the projectile veered off-course, instead slamming into Kalos's back and sending him hurtling further into the cavern with a cry of pain.

Rhaga roared with primal fury, and he charged forward. Vaelyth rushed ahead to meet him, and together they attacked Arzenius. Rhaga conjured a hammer of pure magma into his hand and swung furiously, while Vaelyth danced behind Arzenius, looking for a vital strike to cripple him. Try as they might, the human seemed to avoid every attack they threw, even from different directions. His body seemed to fade in and out of existence precisely when he needed it to, and Vaelyth growled in irritation as her attacks continued to slice through empty air. Her eyes darted over to the ring of torches, and she broke off her attack, sprinting over toward them. She drew her new blade as she approached, slicing upwards to remove the top few inches of one of the torches and catching it as it fell. As she did, she spared a look down for Lucen. Even as a member of the Forsaken, she could tell he had long since expired.

"Sorry, pal," she called out quietly, before turning back to Arzenius. She watched him flicker in and out of existence, and watched Rhaga's attacks as they swung ineffectually into the air around him. Time seemed to slow, and she narrowed her eyes in concentration before reaching back and hurling the torch will all her might. Rhaga saw it coming and leaped backwards to distance himself from his foe, and Arzenius re-materialized where he stood.

"Finished already are w—?" His question was cut short as the torch struck him in the back and his black robes caught alight. Fire roared up the sides of his arms and legs, and he howled in pain, fading in and out of existence in an erratic and seemingly uncontrolled pattern. Vaelyth rushed over to Kalos, helping him to his feet, and he gave her a nod of thanks as they crossed cautiously back to where Arzenius flailed, their weapons drawn and readied. His howls of pain suddenly turned into a single roar of rage, and he re-materialized, shoving his arms outward. The flames dispersed with a rush of foul black fumes, and Vaelyth gagged into her arm as she covered her mouth and nose. Arzenius's body smoked from where the fire had ravaged him, and his robes hung off him in tatters. He reached down to them with one hand, ripping them away as they fell into shreds and hurling them to the floor. His gray skin now lay marred across a huge swath of its surface by searing burns, and the left half of his face was blackened with char. He turned his head to look at her over his shoulder, and her stomach turned as she saw his left eye, completely consumed by flame and rendered into a blackened piece of ash in its socket. "That…" he began in a much more sinister tone than he'd previously used, "was unwise."

Rhaga roared again to gain his attention, and charged at the smoldering human, but Vaelyth sat stunned in horror as Arzenius's eyes never left her own. He reached out his left hand, and a series of four icy blue tendrils erupted from it, rushing forward as one and embedding themselves in Rhaga's chest. His roar cut off with a sickening gurgle, and his wide eyes found hers as she could see his body begin to rapidly deteriorate in their grasp.

"No!" she screamed, hurling herself at Arzenius, who simply laughed as she approached. She swung her daggers at him ineffectually, then glanced down and grabbed her knapsack that held the tome. She dashed in front of him, raising up the bag to block the blue tendrils that assaulted Rhaga's old body. Arzenius hissed in surprise, and cancelled the spell before she could intercept it.

"Foolish girl!" he roared at her, and in an instant he had shimmered again, appearing right in front of her. His hand came out of nowhere, delivering a backhanded slap that sent her sprawling to the floor in a heap, her knapsack tumbling a few feet away. Her body skidded towards the wall of the cavern, and her momentum suddenly stopped when she crashed stomach-first into a large rock on the cavern floor. She vomited reflexively, and the world shook in her vision as she slowly uncurled herself from around the stone, warm wet tears springing forth on her face as she struggled to gasp for breath. Arzenius turned to walk toward her, when ice emerged from the cavern floor, trapping his feet. He whipped his head around to glare at Zillix, and Vaelyth saw him extend his hand once more. A purple rune shimmered into form beneath the gnome's feet as he readied another spell for Arzenius.

"Zillix!" She screamed out, and the gnome caught her gaze with a confused look, only looking down when it was too late. The rune erupted, and a series of skeletal hands emerged into being, immediately grasping at his robes and limbs. Vaelyth attempted to stand and rush to his aid, but her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the floor once more. From across the cave, she heard Zillix screaming, and then a series of wet crunches as the necromantic hands tore him limb from limb. Tears rushed once more to her eyes, and she reached down, hurling more throwing daggers at Arzenius and screaming at him in pure hatred as he approached. He simply waved his hand, and they disintegrated once more, her cries of rage quickly devolving into ones of anguish.

" _Anar'alah!_ " Cried Kalos from behind Arzenius, as he charged with his blade held high. "Back to the darkness with you!" He clenched a fist as he approached, and a golden hammer shimmered into existence above Arzenius's head, slamming down and bathing him in holy power. His skin sizzled once more, and he roared in pain under the assault, but as Kalos's blade came screaming in for his head, Arzenius whipped out a hand, catching it mid-strike and halting its momentum entirely. Kalos staggered under the sudden change in force, and fell to one knee.

"Child of the Light," Arzenius seethed as he gripped the blade tighter. Black blood poured from his hand where he held it, but Vaelyth could see the metal of the blade beginning to slick over with a frost that seemed to emanate from Arzenius's hand. Kalos gritted his teeth, trying to push the blade through his enemy's flesh, but it would not budge. Arzenius leaned closer to the blood elf. "Let us see what glory your precious Light affords you in your darkest hour, shall we?" He surged his hand forward, and the blade exploded in a ring of frost. In an instant, Arzenius had shimmered three times, grabbing a piece of the shattered blade, moving behind Kalos, and ramming it home through his back. Vaelyth saw it protrude through the breastplate of his armor with a sickening  _crunch_ , and she squeezed her eyes shut as Kalos gasped, then called out softly in prayer. Arzenius laughed as he moved back around to stand before his vanquished foe. "Oh, you're a zealous one, I'll give you that." His eyes moved over to Vaelyth, still on her hands and knees, and he pointed to her. "You stay right there. Watch, and know that his death lies upon your head."

Arzenius turned back to Kalos, kneeling down to be at eye level with him as the blood elf continued to mutter in prayer, even as blood began to trickle from the corners of his mouth. Arzenius wrapped his hands around the blade fragment that pierced Kalos, and the familiar frost began to creep outwards from the wound, spreading over Kalos's armor and body. The sin'dorei shook with pain, but continued his prayers for as long as he could, until the suffering became overwhelming, and he began to scream in agony.

" _S-Sparrow_ ," Rhaga called to her, his voice barely above a whisper, and her eyes darted to him. His skin had turned a dark gray, and his eyes had lost all their once-vibrant warmth. His hand reached out to her, beckoning her to him, and in his other hand she could see a small green orb of ancestral magic as his lips moved softly, chanting a spell underneath the din of Kalos's screaming and Arzenius's cackling laughter. She looked behind her, reaching out a leg and finding the strap of her knapsack before pulling it to her, and she crawled, fighting the agonizing, roaring pain in her midsection, until she collapsed next to Rhaga on the harsh stone floor.

"I-I'm sorry, Rhaga. I'm so sorry," she wept into his shoulder, but his free hand found her shoulder, and held her firmly against him for a short moment before he reached around her, pulling her over top of his dying form. She hugged him tightly as he continued to murmur his spell.

"Defiant, are we?" Arzenius called from Kalos's now-silent body, having noticed her crawl across to Rhaga. "Well, let's resolve that now, shall we?" She looked over her shoulder and saw blue energy engulf the hand he held outstretched to her, and she shut her eyes in terror against it before she felt a strong rushing wind against her cheeks. Somewhere in the roar of air, she could barely make out Arzenius howling in rage, but it faded quickly, and she slowly opened her eyes, gasping in realization, the action making her dry heave once more.

She sat on her knees in the very clearing where Rhaga had saved her life. His tent, fire-pit, and meat rack were nowhere to be seen, but she would know this place anywhere. She coughed violently after her stomach spasm, and regained herself, staring down at Rhaga's face. His eyes were sullen, his skin gray and fading quickly, but his face held the smallest of smiles as he stared up into her glowing white eyes.

" _Sparrow…_ " he called weakly, and she erupted into a spasming, choking fit of tears.

"I'm…I'm here, Rhaga," she answered, leaping off of his body and taking off her leather breastplate. She ripped off the bottom half of her undershirt in a blind panic and covered the puncture wounds in his chest, the cloth quickly soaking through with his blood.

"Fucking…No!" she muttered, ripping away another piece of her shirt and tossing aside the first before pressing it down onto his wounds. "No! Stop it! Stop…just…Stop!" she practically screamed at him, her voice slightly echoing in the otherwise tranquil deep-wood clearing. Tears rushed forward, and she tried to wipe them away on her shoulder while she kept his wound from killing him, but after a long moment, she saw him place one hand atop hers. She couldn't speak, no words would come to her brain, and so she shook her head violently, refusing to accept what he had known for a long while now.

" _V-Vaelyth_ ," he whispered.

"Shh," she replied quietly, her voice shaking with sobbing just barely held inside. "I'm here, I'm right here. And so are you. And you're not going anywhere."

" _I go to my ancestors, little sparrow_ ," he whispered, a thick, blood-expelling cough punctuating his sentence. " _As one day, so shall you_."

"Not today, okay?!" She yelled. "I…I need you, Rhaga. I need you here, with me. Everyone else…they're all…" She broke down into wracking sobs, yet still pressed hard on the cloth against his chest, even though by now it had soaked through completely, small pools of his blood welling between her fingers as she shook with pain.

" _You…need no one, Vaelyth_ ," he whispered back, his eyes beginning to glaze over. " _You are…an albatross…A monstrous…kaliri…A…great…windroc…_ " he trailed off, meeting her gaze, and she shook her head violently again.

"No! I don't want to be any of those things, alright?! I don't want them! I just want to be your little Sparrow; that's all. Please, just let me be that! Please…" her eyes fell onto his large green hand, slick with his own blood that had also covered hers, as it reached up and cupped her cheek once more, just as it had the day he'd taken her to Astranaar. His thumb brushed the side of her face, his blood staining across the bottom of one of the purple lightning bolts that adorned her skin.

" _You…will_ always _be that, my child…_ always _…_ "

She reached up with both hands to hold his wrist, pressing her face into his slick palm with all the love and force she possessed, and squeezing her eyes shut in sorrow. She held his hand there for a long moment, and when she opened her eyes again, he had slipped away.

The heart of Ashenvale Forest lay strewn with copses of thick, dark, imposing trees, terrifying spiders and wolves of enormous size, and creatures unknown that took the lives of mortals at a whim. But for a single moment, for just a few seconds in time, her screams of pain and loss were the most bone-chilling thing among them all.


	5. Chapter 4

**~ 4 ~**

_She stalked quietly through the underbrush, careful to place her feet as he had shown her so as not to rustle the leaves and vines that draped across the forest floor. Her softly glowing white eyes peered ahead into the clearing where he sat before the fire pit, roasting a few expertly-cut chunks of meat on a spit. Beneath the skewer, the fire snapped and crackled, its flames leaping up to lick at the undersides of their dinner before trailing away into the open sky above. Stars sprinkled across the inky black night sky, and small dancing shadows played away from the pit on the ground beneath._

_She waited, breathing slowly, steadily, and taking in her surroundings. Her eyes scanned the edges of the clearing, looking for any sign of the small elementals he had conjured to serve as lookouts. She saw none of them, though she flexed her right hand with a grimace for the still-tender burn there, as she'd remembered ambushing the fire elemental earlier. She would need to learn a new method of dealing with those, she chided herself. 'Perfection is not enough; mastery is the true goal,' his words rang in her ears, and she shook her head to dispel them. After a long moment, she stepped silently out into the clearing, approaching him from behind as a nightsaber would creep up to its prey. Inch by inch, she closed with his back, and when she stood some ten feet away, he spoke without turning to face her._

" _Better," he called out, taking the spit off the open flame. She sighed in frustration, leaving her crouched stance and crossing to drop down with an exasperated huff onto the large log next to him. He chuckled at her frustration, holding the skewer out towards her. She flashed him a weak smile, taking one of the pieces off the wooden spike with a nod of thanks. They ate together quietly, and eventually she spoke._

" _I feel like I'm not getting any better." The old orc nodded._

" _But you are." He paused, meeting her eyes before speaking again. "Tell me, do you feel yourself grow, little sparrow? Do you feel the bones and muscles in your body stretch outwards as you age? Can one feel themselves become more proficient at seeing the world, or breathing?"_

_She shook her head. "No, not really." He nodded once again._

" _So it is with this proficiency. Every scenario is unique; every target a whole new experience. It can be hard to feel improvement, and so we look to our peers, to our mentors, to help judge our own progress." She nodded in understanding, and he reached over a large hand, ruffling her snow-white hair and earning a grimace of annoyance from her. He laughed at her gesture, then smiled. "You are improving; would I lie to you?"_

" _No, of course not," she replied, smiling across to him, and the gesture warmed his heart. He had not been sure that she would return when he'd taken her to her people's city, and yet she had, time and time again. Some days she simply needed company or reassurance; he had been concerned to hear that she did not particularly mesh well with others of her kind anymore. Although, he supposed that after the things she'd seen, and at such a young age, it would be hard for her to connect deeply with anyone anymore. Other times, she brought him food and supplies, things he had no true need of, but that made his existence out here in the woods just a bit more comfortable, and for which he was always grateful. Often, Lashi had stayed at his camp when she had no need of him, he and the large beast forming a strong bond in their natural abode._

_Time had passed like a river coursing by, and for years she had come to spend time with him, their connection growing stronger than steel. He never directly asked her to keep his presence in the forest a secret, yet she never told a soul, and eventually, on one anniversary of her parents' death, she had asked him if he could train her to fight._

" _Do they not teach you that in Astranaar?" he had replied quietly. He could teach her, he thought with no small amount of dread, for he knew things that the old orc she thought she knew would not, but should he?_

_She had shrugged in response, her white hair glancing off the shoulders of the tall, beautiful woman he still could not believe she had become. From their many talks, he was sure she was still considered an adolescent by her people's aging conventions, but what he saw when he looked at her, when he spoke with her, was a sharp-witted, intelligent young adult, and that she had come to see him of all people as a father figure warmed his heart to no end. "Sure, with polearms and spears, daggers and the like…but I saw what good those do…" she trailed off, and he reached out to put a hand on her shoulder, earning her gaze._

" _Your father fought with great skill and honor, if the stories you tell me are even half-true," he replied quietly, his eyes never leaving hers. "A weapon alone will never win a battle, but a true warrior can use any weapon to achieve victory. Remember this." She nodded, clearly pushing back tears that welled in the corner of her eyes._

" _I don't like fighting," she replied meekly after a moment of silence for the fallen dead. "The look in people's eyes…it just reminds me. Of everything." He nodded in understanding and sighed heavily. For decades he had repressed his past, concealed what he had been taught, and tried to walk the true path of shamanism, nurturing his connection with the spirits of both his people and the elements. But it seemed his past would not lay hidden forever. He would prefer to bury it, but if her need of him required its exhuming, then he would be the first to take up the spade. He realized with a pang in his heart the amount that he cared for her, and squeezed her shoulder gently. Her eyes, which had drifted away in the silence, back to more painful memories, found his once more._

" _Take up your blades," he whispered across to her, "and I will teach you all that I know."_

* * *

The chirping of small songbirds roused Vaelyth from her fitful sleep beneath the large oak tree, deep within the heart of Ashenvale. Beneath her, a freshly-tilled mound of dirt lay, a small portion of it transformed into mud by the tears she'd wept throughout the night. No headstone adorned Rhaga's grave, no indicator to anyone who might pass of the incredible being of warmth and love who lay buried beneath, and as she crawled off the grave to rest on her knees beside it, she reached out a hand, laying it gingerly atop the dirt she had placed there some hours before.

"You told me once that you never had a child," she whispered to the empty clearing, tears rolling freely down her cheeks once more, "but you were wrong, you silly old stone..." She paused, sniffing as her eyes glanced to the ground just beside Rhaga's grave, where she knew that under the bed of grass and vines, Lashi lay in eternal slumber, the two of them having buried him there many years ago. Her eyes squeezed shut at the fresh jolt of pain that surged through her, and she refocused on his grave, willing the words to come, although they had no audience. "You had me."

She stayed in the clearing for another hour or two, time seeming to pass her by in waves, and then she left them behind, setting off into the underbrush to find her way back to the main road. It was all second-nature by now; these deep woods were her home, and she brushed her bare hand lovingly against a few trunks of great trees as she passed. Constantly, her soul pulled at her to rush back to the clearing, collapse onto Rhaga's grave, and simply lay there until she died, but she pushed the feeling away, her heart wrenching as she remembered another of his lectures.

" _No man lives forever, no woman either,_ " he had told her one night while they'd sharpened their knives around the campfire. He had paused after that, turning to hold her full attention as he spoke. " _When your time comes, little sparrow, ensure that your death is a good death; an honorable death…one for which you can feel true pride. Azeroth will continue to endure after you leave the mortal plane, others will, and must, continue on without you, but the strongest memories we can leave with those we love are those of honor, and sacrifice, in protecting that for which we care most."_

She tightened her grip on the strap of her knapsack, wincing with a growl against the throbbing pain in her midsection, and pressed forward through the forest. He had taught her everything he had known, every scrap of his life before the elements and the ancestors, under the brutal tutelage of his father. She had learned the shadow's call as well as any orc could have been taught, and the day he had finally told her he had nothing left to teach, the look of pride on his face had nearly brought her to tears. He had been her savior, her friend, her mentor, the father she had lost. She would be worthy of him. And, she thought as her eyes narrowed and her teeth ground together, her short fangs drawing blood unnoticed from her bottom lip, she would most certainly avenge him.

A short while later, her boots touched the granite flagstones of the main road that cut through the heart of Ashenvale, and she spared one more look back into the forest toward his camp. In the middle of her line of sight, amidst a small break in the tree cover, a wolf larger than any she'd ever seen stood stoically, staring into her eyes some hundred yards away. She had walked that path not minutes ago; surely she had passed right by the creature, but she remembered nothing. She was always aware of her surroundings, he had trained her to be, how had she…? Her mind trailed off as she and the great wolf continued to regard each other in their sights, and she followed the form of his body with her eyes. His fur, white as the freshly-fallen snow, seemed to almost shimmer with an ethereal glow, and as her eyes returned to his, he sat down on his haunches in the middle of the small open space, throwing his head back and letting out a sorrowful howl that echoed through the trees. She felt a pressure in her chest, and her hand found its way there unconsciously, resting lightly against her armor. To her right, further along the road to the city, she heard the calls of Sentinels patrolling the road, and turned her head to look for them. They were not yet within eyesight, though, and when she turned her head back, the wolf was gone. Not just gone…she felt as if, perhaps, he had never been there to begin with. After a long moment, she shook her head, dispelling the confusing thoughts, and walked gingerly towards the sound of her people's conversation.

She walked along the road, thinking again of the wolf whom she was now certain had been a figment of her imagination. Still, its howl had been so real, and it had seemed to slam into her chest…Thinking of her chest seemed to wake her brain back up to the beating she'd recently sustained, and her midsection began to throb in dull agony. She gritted her teeth, placing a hand on it only to recoil in pain.  _Broken ribs_ , she thought,  _great_. She continued along the path, but her vision began to blur at the edges, the emotional adrenaline of the past few hours wearing off and leaving her at the mercy of her injuries.

She stumbled a few more steps, and fell to one knee. Her eyes scanned desperately ahead as her mouth hung open in pain, and before she tumbled to the stone road beneath her, she could just make out the distinct form of nightsabers rounding the bend in the distance, with elven riders perched atop them. Her eyes began to shut of their own accord, and she heard muffled shouting in the distance; the beasts, now only fuzzy shapes in her sight, increasing their pace as they bore down upon her.

* * *

She lay on her back in the tallgrass, staring up into the night sky. The moon hung there, full and glowing, and she closed her eyes again, as if her dismissal of it would somehow cause it to vanish without a trace. The wind flowed gently through the field in which she lay, and she smiled slightly, feeling it brush over her cheeks, pull at her hands. After a long moment, she sat up, running a carefree hand through the waves of tallgrass to her side. The wind blew again, seeming to almost whisper her name on its form as it passed, and she silently obeyed, standing to peer over the tops of the blades.

A lone figure stood some distance across the field, far enough away that she could not make out any detail about him other than to say he was human. He seemed composed of pure light, and though it was difficult to tell simply by looking at him from this great distance, she somehow knew that he was watching her, peering into her very soul.

"It calls us all, in our own time and way," he said quietly, and although he was far away, she heard his voice as if he stood just before her. It was soothing; a calm, peaceful voice. The voice of a man who had seen enough war to know that peace was always the better option; the voice of one who knew that not as an ideal, but as a battle-tested truth. Still, the sensation startled her, and she took a step back, feeling the grass beneath her feet. She looked down to see herself dressed only in a simple white shirt and brown leggings; no armor, no weapons. She raised her eyes, afraid for a moment that she would find him standing just before her now, but he remained silently across the field, thousands of stars twinkling in the night sky behind him.

"Wh-what does?" she stammered. She looked around them, but saw no sign of civilization. Instead, the tallgrass in which they stood reached out forever, covering all the land around her in a soft green sea that ebbed and flowed with the gentle breeze. Out here, wherever she was, she was alone. Save for him. She heard him sigh, in a tone that caused her heart to reach out to him of its own volition, the sound of a weary warrior.

"The Light. Battle. Glory." He paused for a moment. "Death."

Her eyes widened. "Am…am I dead?" she managed to barely whisper, her voice catching in her throat.

"That remains to be seen," he replied. He turned then, walking away from her across the field as he spoke once more, the sound of his voice still seeming to speak to her from no more than inches away. "If you survive, remember my words. Listen for its call. And when you hear it, rather than flee, charge to meet your fate with every ounce of strength you have." His form began to shimmer and fade.

"Wait!" she called out after him. "What the hell are you talking about? What's calling me? How will I know?" She gritted her teeth, sprinting forward through the tall grass after his retreating form, but the land seemed to stretch as she ran, and try as she might she could come no closer to him as he continued to dissolve away. After a long while, she slowed to a stop, doubling over to put her hands on her knees and catch her breath. She could feel sweat beading on her forehead and at the small of her back, and her stomach ached at the exertion. Her head pounded as if she'd been hit with a mallet, and she sank to her knees, the world going dizzy before she fell over once more into unconsciousness.

* * *

"—isn't exactly a child's schoolbook, now is it, Halenn?" A woman's voice sliced through the inky black in which she now lay. It had only come seconds later, or perhaps it had been hours, she was no longer sure. The woman was clearly agitated, but her voice seeped into Vaelyth's ears in a muffled manner, as though her head were packed with cloth.

"I did not say it was," a male's voice replied calmly.

"Good, then what are we going to do when she—" the woman cut off as Vaelyth stirred, her eyes flickering open to take in her surroundings. She lay on her back on a soft bed, underneath a wooden ceiling with a large tree branch serving as its main crossbeam. She lowered her gaze to see a collection of similar beds in the room around her, though none of them had occupants. Recognizing the infirmary of Astranaar, she lay her head back with a sigh, wincing at the tightness in her abdomen.

"Welcome back, child," Halenn called to her quietly as he stepped around the side of her bed. She gave him a weak smile, he had always been kind to her.

"Thanks for picking me up," she whispered.

"Thank the sentinels when next you see them.  _If_  next you see them," Lennarys shot back, coming to her other side. Had she been less exhausted, Vaelyth would have rolled her eyes at the woman's incessant nagging tone. It had clearly not subsided in the years she'd been away. "You turn up in the middle of Ashenvale, seemingly out of nowhere, armed for battle and carrying what I can only assume is stolen property?" Vaelyth opened her eyes, flitting them frantically around the room. She found her knapsack on a table beside the bed, opened and thoroughly rifled-through on a nearby table. The tome sat just beside it, as did the pile of her armor and weapons.

"Seriously?" she replied, her eyes narrowing. "You went through my shit?"

"We had to know if you were a danger to us!" Lennarys almost yelled down into her face. "You disappeared without a word, Vaelyth Indariel! And you made it abundantly clear when you  _were_ here, to my great embarrassment I might add, that you held no love for Elune. I find it hard to believe that you've somehow adopted the Light so fervently as to possess a tome such as  _that_."

On her bed, Vaelyth paused for a moment, staring daggers into Lennarys's eyes. Then she simply shrugged. "People change."

"Oh yes," Lennarys replied venomously. "People do. But you're not  _normal_  people, are you?"

"Lennarys," Halenn cut her off sternly, a rare sight for the usually-tranquil elf. Her head whipped up, as if to give him a piece of her mind, but his stony expression halted all potential there, and she huffed, turning and walking out of the building without a word. Halenn watched her go, then shook his head, drawing over a stool and sitting beside her.

"I guess some people  _never_  change," Vaelyth mumbled. For his part, Halenn chuckled.

"She  _was_  worried about you, you know," he replied, his serenity now fully re-instated. "You should have seen her when they brought you back into town draped over a nightsaber." This time Vaelyth did roll her eyes.

"Oh, I'm sure she was. Worried enough to keep me away from everyone else and to dig through my bag for treasures like a child at Winter Veil."

She sighed. Her anger with Lennarys didn't stem from her snooping, not truly. Vaelyth remembered her as a stern, but kind, woman who had taken her into her home when she had first come to Astranaar. Lennarys had always wanted to call Vaelyth her own daughter, but her insistence on the girl leaving the past behind and ignoring its impacts had led to a bitter rift forming between them, culminating in Vaelyth's sudden disappearance from Astranaar some six years ago, now. She could understand Lennarys's anger with her, but she refused to apologize. If the woman wanted to feel better about the situation, she could practice what she preached, and forget the troublesome child she once knew.

"She cares for you, even now," Halenn said quietly after a long moment's pause.

"She shouldn't," she replied, in a tone that was perhaps a bit more introspective than she would have liked. Halenn chuckled, his face adopting a mischievous grin that she loved to see on him. With the other adults, he had always been serious and collected, but every now and then when the two of them had been alone, he'd shown her that wasn't all there was to him. He had lived many years more than her, but still the joy of life dwelt within him. It was a good look for him, she had always thought.

"Oh? Were we to leave you on the road then, instead of bringing you here and mending your broken bones? I shall have to remember that, in the future." He stroked his deep green beard methodically, the over-acting at thinking about the situation earning a soft laugh from her that quickly turned into a coughing fit.

"You know what I mean," she shot back with a grin.

He smiled down at her with a mix of comfort and pity. "Sometimes, Vaelyth, I don't think  _you_  know what you mean." He stood, his green hair framing a face now covered in lines of worry. "Your wounds are healed, though you should rest here for a few days. I'm sure everyone will be happy to know you've come back home." He looked over to the table, his eyes glancing off the tome's shining golden surface. "We will, however, need to talk about that. When you're feeling up to it, of course."

She lay her head back down on the pillow, coughing a bit. "Thanks, Halenn. We definitely will." He held her gaze for a long moment, as if reading her thoughts, then merely nodded, and exited the infirmary, leaving her alone. She waited for a long moment after he left, then threw the sheets off her body, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and pressing them to the cool wooden floor. Her midsection groaned at her in tightness, but no longer stung with the sharp pain of serious injury, and she grunted as she stood up, looking down past the frayed edge of her ripped shirt to inspect the wound. A large bruise marred her stomach, and she shook her head at it before crossing to the table.

She picked up the pieces of her armor one by one and put them on, a series of motions she'd performed many times before, though always with Rhaga at her side. The ritual now seemed almost hollow, empty, and she allowed herself another moment of pain at his passing, closing her eyes and exhaling slowly as she snapped a bracer into place around her wrist. Her fingers brushed over its dark leather surface, and her eyes opened once more. She remembered his lessons, everything he'd taught her, and resolve washed back over her with a crushing force. She geared up quickly, her eyes carefully trained on the main door to check for anyone who could walk in, and when she'd finished she grabbed the knapsack, placed the tome back in it, and slung it over her shoulder once again.

Sparing one last look for the door, she quickly crossed to an open window in the back wall of the infirmary, peeking her head out. The drop was only a few feet down, but there was no cover; she'd have to sprint and hope for the best. Sighing, she took a few steady breaths and then vaulted over the sill, landing on her feet in the soft grass below before tearing away from the city at a sprint. She made it ten steps before hearing Lennarys's voice shriek her name from inside the infirmary, and she grinned as she closed on the river that bent around each side of the island that made up the city grounds. As she approached it at top speed, she pulled the knapsack off her shoulder, swinging it around her head a few times before hurling it across the rushing water. As it flew, she pulled a dagger from her belt and sent it flying after the bag. The blade struck true, piercing the strap of the bag and pulling it forward before pinning it to the sturdy trunk of a tree on the far side of the rushing water. She closed with the riverbank just as she saw it slam into the tree, and vaulted as far out over the water as she could before splashing down into it, diving quickly under the surface.

She kicked her legs as one, propelling herself through the water with as little surface disturbance as possible, and after a long moment reached the far bank. Her midsection groaned with the exertion, but she put it out of her mind, surfacing slowly so as not to draw attention. Her eyes peeked above the water-line, and looking back toward the village, she saw Lennarys peering behind buildings and into patches of underbrush looking for her. She chuckled at the sight, causing bubbles to make their way to the surface, then climbed quickly out of the river and retrieved her bag and the dagger that held it aloft before slinking into the forest once again. Her mild entertainment seeped away, and familiar sorrow and pain washed over her as she held the bag in both hands, feeling the ornate cover of the tome underneath the thin fabric. This single book that was supposed to have brought the four of them everything they had ever desired, which had instead killed three and left the last a broken mess. She walked on for a few minutes, staring down into his surface, until suddenly she found her progress halted, a ring of icy fragments encircling her feet.

"Oh, for the love of…" she muttered, kicking her legs to try and break the restraints that seemed made of crystalline iron. Her eyes shot out around her, coming to rest on the half of a face she could see peeking out from behind one of the trees further ahead on the path. Looking beyond it, she could see a small campfire and a tent, and the other spoke before she could.

"Who…Who are you? What do you want?" She recognized the strange accent of the Draenei, and replaced the dagger at her belt, slinging the knapsack back over her shoulder as well. She folded her arms over her chest and shrugged as nonchalantly as possible.

"Just a traveler leaving Astranaar; no need to be worried." She could swear she heard a scoff from behind the tree.

"If there's one thing I've learned so far, it's that out here there's  _every_  need to be worried."

Vaelyth couldn't help but nod her head in concession. "Fair point. So, what happens now?"

The draenei stepped a bit further out from behind her cover, looking her over. She was dressed in a long, patterned robe, a blue base with dancing golden embroidery playing over its surface. Her skin was a light blue in hue, and her dark purple hair was pulled back into a ponytail behind her head. Vaelyth thought she would have looked quite lovely, were it not for the shroud of nervousness that hung about her, and seemed to radiate outwards. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest, almost in a mirror image of Vaelyth's own stance, but minus the self-confidence. When she spoke again, it was hesitant, as if her every chosen statement were little more than pure guesswork. "Depends. What is it you carry in your bag?"

Vaelyth's eyes narrowed. "Family heirloom." They stared each other down for a long moment, and she sighed. "Not mine. It got lost; I was the one who found it. Now I'm trying to return it. So, am I going to get to do that, or are we going to stand here until sundown asking each other questions until we're blue in the face?" She paused, unable to stop a short laugh from spurting out. "Well, until  _I'm_  blue in the face. I'll admit you've got a head start on me there."

The corners of the draenei's mouth turned up in a small smile for a fraction of a second, then slipped quickly back into solemn skepticism. She stared at Vaelyth in silence for another long moment, then hesitantly waved her hand, dispelling the chains. Vaelyth stretched her legs, leaning down to rub at her very cold calves. "Appreciate it."

"Sure," the draenei replied quietly. "I…I am Avrena. I'm sorry but, you just cannot be too careful." Vaelyth stood back to full height, dusting off her knees.

"Vae. No apology needed; I know how it is being out here on your own." Avrena smiled warmly, and Vaelyth stepped closer, shivering a bit in her waterlogged armor. "Mind if I use your fire for a bit? I picked a bad time for a swim."

"Oh…um…sure, of course," came the hesitant reply. Vaelyth gave her the best smile she could muster, and the two of them crossed in silence to Avrena's small encampment, taking up seats on the ground at opposite sides of the fire. The day had just begun to seep into the mild evening hours, and Vaelyth could see the blue skies above the tree tops beginning to tinge with the familiar purple of the evening air as she let out a long sigh, leaning back and reaching out her arms to hold herself up after setting her bag down beside her. The fire washed over her in lapping waves of warmth, slowly but surely pulling the moisture from her soaked armor, and she closed her eyes in comfort, a small smile finding its place on her face. After a few minutes of quiet, she opened her eyes, chuckling a little to see the Avrena smiling at her from across the blaze.

"What?" she asked quietly.

Avrena laughed a bit herself. "Nothing. I had just been trying to think of a normal way to start a conversation given the circumstances of our meeting, but you looked so comfortable that I just…didn't want to speak for a while." Vaelyth's smile grew bigger, and she leaned forward, the pain in her midsection fading a bit under the heat's soft caress.

"Well, I'm nice and toasty now. Fire away."

"Alright," she replied, shifting her weight to sit more comfortably. "Tell me your story."

"Hmm?"

"Your story," Avrena replied, her eyes seeming to glow in the slowly increasing evening light. "Everyone has one, and I love hearing them. I want to hear yours."

Vaelyth looked away with a shrug into the tree-line, returning her gaze after a long moment. "Not much to tell, really. I grew up around here, lived in Astranaar my whole life. I'm a leatherworker in the town," she rapped her knuckles against her breastplate with a winning grin.

"I see," Avrena said, with a tone that for some reason made Vaelyth uneasy. There was no way this woman knew who she was, and yet worry coursed through her. Her thoughts spun like a maelstrom inside her head as she projected calm and sincerity. "Any family?" The question stuck her in the ribs like a knife, but she remained composed.

"Ah…yes. Until recently, that is. The last of them passed away…well, recently."

"I'm sorry to hear that," the draenei replied, true sincerity in her words. Vaelyth smiled weakly despite the pain.

"Thanks." She paused a moment, staring into the fire and thinking of Rhaga, Kalos, and Zillix. Rhaga's final words haunted her, and she shivered despite being next to the fire. She looked back up to Avrena. "So…yea, that's about all there is to me."

The draenei chuckled softly, shaking her head, and Vaelyth's eyes narrowed in confusion. "What?" Avrena didn't reply, merely stood up from where she sat and crossed over to sit beside Vaelyth in front of the roaring blaze. She looked across at the elf, their eyes holding steady, for a long moment before Vaelyth repeated the question in a much more hushed tone.

"You're lying to me," Avrena all but whispered, and Vaelyth's breath caught in her throat for the briefest of moments.

"Hand to the Light, I'm not," she doubled down. A wicked grin appeared on Avrena's face.

"Careful where you swear oaths," she cautioned with a chuckle, scooting a few inches away from her and raising her eyes to the heavens as if waiting for some heavenly force to strike her. When her eyes came back down and met Vaelyth's, she giggled. Vaelyth bristled.

"Listen, I don't know what makes you think that I'd be ly—"

"Your armor is a thick hide with a pocketed underlay for maximum flexibility and maneuverability; it is an orcish design," Avrena interrupted her, pointing to her breastplate. "You are carrying five different knives that I can see, and probably twice that number that are invisible to me; and they are not game-hunting knives, but people-killing knives. That, and that fact that you have magical residue," she reached over a light blue hand, brushing her gentle fingertips over Vaelyth's shoulderpad and then rubbing her fingers together as if to dispel some substance that hung between, " _all_ over you. And…not a good kind, I would add." She paused for a moment then, staring the elf back in the eyes. "So, tell me, how poor of a leatherworker are you that your customers are using magic against you, and you have to come to work prepared to kill them?" The brutal onslaught of truth was softened by the friendly smile she attached to the end of the flood, and Vaelyth simply stared at her in awe for a short moment.

"Alright…" she began again once she'd found the words. "Yea…that was…impressive." She sat in awe of how skillfully the woman had deconstructed her lie. Rhaga had helped her craft the armor she now wore, and by her last count she had some eighteen knives concealed on her person. And, she thought with an inward laugh, they were most certainly  _all_  of the people-killing persuasion. A single rebuttal crept into her mind. "Hey wait, how can you recognize an orcish armor pattern? I mean…" she gestured to the robes that Avrena wore, and the draenei nodded in understanding as she reached out to grab her own pack. From it, she removed a cloth-wrapped loaf of bread, breaking it in half, and offering one piece to Vaelyth. Her stomach growled at her at the mere smell, earning another light laugh from the draenei, and she took it hesitantly. She had just been caught in a complete lie, so why was she being fed and smiled at? It made no sense, and Vaelyth stayed quiet, taking a bite out of the bread as she waited for a response.

"Well," Avrena began slowly, "I am still not sure whether  _you_  are an actual leatherworker; but my father certainly was one. He always loved to talk about his work." She smiled, as if the sentence had given Vaelyth all she needed to know. And it had. Vaelyth shook her head in resignation before allowing herself to laugh at how soundly she'd been bested.

"Alright, well, what are the odds of  _that_? Seriously?"

Avrena smiled a little wider and shrugged, taking a bite of her own bread, and a long silence hung between them as they ate. Vaelyth had spent years training with Rhaga in the arts of stealth and deception, and years more living amidst the true squalor of the world in the Bay. Still, she realized with a mouthful of bread, she could not pin down this woman's motivations. She waited another moment longer, but every time she looked to Avrena, the draenei's glowing eyes stared right back, waiting for the truth of her story. Vaelyth sighed, supposing there was no getting out of it now.

Slowly, she began to speak, revealing the details of her life to this woman she'd met only hours previously. She spoke of her parents, her home, and the night it was all taken from her. She told her of Rhaga, and Lashi, and the many days she'd spent only feeling truly happy when the three of them spent time together. She told Avrena of the training she had asked Rhaga for, from a life before memory, and how he had showed her the shadow's call. And, with great pain, she told her of their last adventure, and the fate that had befallen those she had considered her closest friends. For her part, Avrena listened patiently, encouragingly, and when at last Vaelyth finished and fell into silence, the draenei paused for a moment, then stood up in front of her, reaching down to take her hand. Confused, Vaelyth gave it, allowing herself to be pulled up to stand face to face with her. The story of her life had eaten up the remaining hours of the evening, and night had settled into place around the two of them and their fire that seemed to never burn out.

"I…" Vaelyth stammered, wiping the still-wet tears from her cheeks. She was still unsure if divulging her truth had been the correct move, but it had seemed the only one available to her. "I swear, that's the truth."

Avrena nodded comfortingly, and spoke quietly. "I believe you…this time." She smiled, and Vaelyth offered a weak one of her own in exchange.

"So, then…what are we—" Her question was cut off as Avrena crossed the single step between them and embraced her. She squeezed her lightly, but firmly, and a mixture of confusion and comfort washed over Vaelyth's mind. After a moment that seemed like an hour, she hesitantly reached out with her arms, and returned the gesture.

"It was not right," the draenei whispered into her ear as they held each other. "And it was not fair. But more than this, it was not your fault, Vae."

The words shouldn't have meant anything to her. They should have washed over her as would any other simple fact. But in that moment, they seemed to mean everything. New tears found their way to her face, borne from a guilt she had buried deep within her, and she held Avrena closer, desperate for anyone to comfort her as years of emotion spilled out unbidden. She shook with quiet sobs, but Avrena held fast to her in reassurance, and when the storm had passed and exhaustion threatened to claim her, the woman offered Vaelyth her own bed. Too tired to refuse, she stumbled into the tent, quickly succumbing to sleep.

Outside the tent, Avrena smiled sadly, her heart breaking for the story she'd just endured. She crossed to where Vaelyth had sat, retrieving her bag and placing it by the entrance to the tent. She then sat down by the fire with a long, quiet sigh, allowing the emotional fury of the past few moments to flow out of her. With a smile, she remembered the conversation she'd had with her father before leaving the island where her people had come to find a sense of peace. She had set off to sate her wanderlust, ever the curious mind, and to learn what she could about the magic in her veins, being the first in her family's history to have been blessed with the gift. She remembered how he had made her promise not to become caught up in conflicts that were not her own. " _The Alliance has been good to us,"_  he had said, " _but not good enough that I would give them my only child."_  She had understood then, and she had promised him what he asked of her.

She shook her head in resignation as she pushed her hands slowly outward, stoking the magical flame in her fire pit before laying down beside it, watching the flames dance against the black of the night sky. She had hoped her voyage could help her become like the great mages of which she'd read; forces of truth and good in a world that had adopted her people from their flight. It seemed now that her voyage would also make her a liar.


	6. Chapter 5

_Author's Note:  
_ Hey everyone! Just a quick mention that this book (and/or eventual series) was inspired by Lunarelle's  _Evermore_  series that she has going on over at her page. So, if you've got the time, and you're a fan of great world-building, character development, and a well-written, realistic romance, go give her some love and check out her pieces (she has waaaay more posted than I do :P).

Thanks, and enjoy!

* * *

**~ 5 ~**

The sun's soft light blanketed the white-stone courtyard that hummed with the chirping of small songbirds, roused awake by the rising sun, and the ringing of a blacksmith's hammer as it struck true over and over against the hard anvil underneath. All across the high stone walls of Farstrider's Square, banners of Silvermoon, their glorious golden crest on a field of crimson red, alternated with those of the Blood Knight order, red-crested on a field of black. All blew lazily in the morning breeze, and beneath them, in view of the entrance to the Hall of Blood, the sin'dorei swordsman danced.

A gleaming silver blade in one hand, a golden shield forged in the image of a phoenix spreading its wings in the other, he spun amidst the assault of five younger members of the order. The pale skin of his bare torso carried a thin sheen of sweat from exertion, and his golden hair, swept back over the crown of his head to fall behind him, swayed as he dodged and parried the multitude of attacks which they brought to bear upon him. His sword flashed like a ray of light itself, parrying an attack here only to immediately bite there, and the muffled metallic clanging when his blade struck their armor seemed to ring out quickly enough to compose a tune. By contrast, their blades and spears seemed to find naught but empty space when they sought out his body, or on rare occasion the bulk of his shield, turning aside their attacks.

Talian's eyes darted around between his five opponents, and after nearly twenty minutes of the dance they'd performed, he decided it was time to finish. He surged forward, pushing his shield ahead of him into the soldier on his left, sending her sprawling to the ground. He dropped his blade as she fell, grabbing her spear as it began to tumble away from her, and immediately whipped it back behind his head to collide with the incoming attack from his flank. The two spears met, and his attacker's shattered midway along the haft, falling into pieces on the flagstones below. Talian dipped below the other three spears, all aimed at his midsection, and ripped his weapon in a wide arc in front of him, infusing it with holy power that accelerated it faster than he alone could. It slammed against the boots of his furthest opponent and continued on through, throwing the man off balance and striking the soldier beside him as he began to tumble over. He tripped all three of them, and they fell defeated as he rose back up to his full height, turning with a smile to hand the spear to the one standing opponent, whose own weapon he had shattered mere moments ago. The woman shook her head with a smile, accepting the spear and bowing her head to him in graceful defeat.

He stepped forward to help up one of the men he'd tripped, the other taking his hand gratefully as Talian hauled him to his feet. "Truly impressive work, my Lord," the man said, turning the offered hand of assistance into a handshake which Talian returned. He swept his gaze around as the five of them stood once more in front of him.

"Excellent performance, all of you; it's apparent you've all been training hard. Maleryn," he called out, turning to the woman he'd bowled over and adopting a fighting stance. "Feet apart, always." He gestured to his own posture, and she mimicked him for a moment before nodding thoughtfully. "The closer they are, the less flexibility of balance you have; keep that in mind the next time a madman charges you." He flashed her a smile which she returned with a sheepish one of her own and a nod. The rest of them chuckled and began to gather their things, and he bade each of them farewell with a piece of individual appraisal. They departed then, and he stood alone in the courtyard, crossing to a nearby table and taking a soft cloth off of its surface. He wiped down his face and chest before pulling his shirt back over his head and slinging the cloth over his shoulder, then retrieving his weapons where they lay. As he knelt to recover them, the full sun broke over the crest of the courtyard walls, its radiant warmth blanketing his face. He sighed deeply, facing it and closing his eyes, feeling a contentment which he was sure, had they felt it's true presence, would have made his relatives think twice about the course of action they'd taken what seemed like a lifetime ago.

"It makes you wonder how we lived so long without truly feeling it, does it not?" the hardened, yet still distinctly feminine voice called to him from across the square. His smile deepened, and he opened his eyes to meet hers as he stood once more, sheathing his weapons.

"It does," he replied quietly as she crossed to meet him. Her silver plate armor was always a sight to behold, especially now as it shimmered in the morning light. Her sun-kissed skin, sharp green eyes, and light brown hair tied up into a ponytail behind her head gave her a simplistic yet deadly appearance, and he had not been surprised to hear that she'd had her fair share of attention-seekers in her time. Still, to Talian she was a mentor, a superior, and thankfully, a friend. "Lady Liadrin," he spoke again as she closed to within a few feet of him, bowing his head slightly in observation of her rank within the order. She laughed quietly in response.

"Lord Sunvale," she replied after a moment, and his face twisted into a slight grimace before he could help himself. He tried to conceal it by cleaning his face with the cloth on his shoulder once more, but her small grin told him she'd caught it. She nodded her head back toward the Hall of Blood, and he fell into step beside her as she walked. "It's true, whether you want it to be or not," she said in a quieter tone as they strode through the courtyard. All around them, carefully planted and maintained plants drank up the morning light, some of the flowers beginning to open up to its rays. She stopped for a moment and held one gingerly in her gauntleted hand, a small white bulb whose petals had just now begun to slowly open outward.

"I know that, Liadrin," he replied, watching her tease the petals with her thumb. "But the lord's title of a traitorous house isn't exactly the great treasure you seem to think it." He paused for a moment, casting his eyes around the courtyard to ensure they were truly alone, and they were. "You know how the politics of Silvermoon function; better than most I would imagine, having to helm the order in the thick of it all." She nodded absently, still looking down at the flower.

"I do, at that."

"Then you must also understand my hesitation to associate myself with my father's name." She chuckled quietly, gently dropping the flower and turning to face him.

"That's the problem, Talian. You see the situation of your house as a crippling wound, a mortifying burden to be carried around until the end of time."

"I merely think as the rest of the city does since the return of our forces from Outland, my Lady. You know what they found in Netherstorm, in Shadowmoon. Half of the nobles in the city wanted to dissolve House Sunvale into nothingness, strike it from our historical records. I'm fairly certain that, had the Regent Lord not intervened, we wouldn't even be having this conversation; I wouldn't even be here. How else should I see it?"

Liadrin smiled. "As an opportunity." She turned, continuing to walk, and he moved alongside her. "When the false prince first brought M'uru here to Silvermoon, I had long sought a cure for our people's affliction. In my mind, nothing else mattered. In the aftermath of Arthas' attack, all the people we'd lost, and the corruption of the Sunwell..." she shook her head, lost in thought for a moment. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and she looked over to smile at him in appreciation.

"You did what was necessary to keep us alive, to keep us fighting for our home." She nodded.

"I did. And when the consequences of my actions came to bear down upon us, I felt as though I had doomed our entire people in my relentless chase for a miracle. I had subjugated a being of pure Light, been betrayed by the prince to whom I owed allegiance, and our order was beset on all sides by enemies." She paused for a moment, and he frowned in concern for her. She took a deep breath before continuing. "When I marched the order into Shattrath, I had no idea if A'dal would hear my words. Half of me was certain his troops would destroy us on the spot. But with no one to support us, with Kael'thas' actions...it was the only option I had left if I hoped to keep my people alive. More than that, it became an opportunity to re-create the order in a way I never could have imagined."

"I regret that I wasn't there at your side, my Lady," he said quietly to fill the following silence. She smiled sadly back up at him.

"And  _I_  would have regretted it if you were, Talian." She shook her head. "I was a different woman then; a woman I'd like very much to forget ever existed. But we can't forget our past, can we?" He smiled back at her, just as sadly.

"No, we cannot."

"But, neither can we let it dictate our future," she replied, and her eyes locked on his, their green depths hardened with resolve. Just as in their many conversations before, her point came crashing in seemingly out of nowhere, and he simply nodded his head with a smile as it rolled over him. Her eyes softened, and she clapped a hand on his shoulder in support, still holding his gaze. "I have a feeling that the true glory of House Sunvale is yet to come, Talian. Seize the opportunity, no matter how dire circumstances may seem."

He nodded assurance to her. "I will think on what you've said. Thank you, Liadrin. You've been a true friend, to both me and my brother, in the wake of what's happened." Her smile warmed, and she looked back out over the courtyard as she spoke, the sun's light shining through her auburn hair.

"Well, you're easy to like. Orphans have to stick together, after all." She returned her eyes to his with a mischievous gleam. "Speaking of which; have you heard from Kalos recently?"

Talian sighed and shook his head, earning a soft chuckle from her. "The last I heard, he had joined up with some less than savory individuals in the south of Stranglethorn. If I know Kalos, they're mercenaries of some sort."

Liadrin nodded absently. "Well, each of us has our own path to walk. Still, I'd wager it won't be Kalos Sunvale who leads his house back to greatness. That task falls to you, Lord Talian." She paused for a moment before sighing. "But that's a long-term struggle, I'm afraid, and we've pressing concerns in the here and now."

"You've received word back from beyond the Elrendar?" he replied, falling into step once more as she began moving up the stairs and through the main entryway of the Hall of Blood. She nodded.

"Reports are coming back from scouts, mostly the resurgence in Scourge activity, but that much we knew about. The Forsaken have been busy in the short amount of time they've spent on our shores; Tranquillien has been fortified, and their commanding officer makes regular strikes against the Scourge strongholds in the area. Dame Auriferous has been sending me updates, but they all seem positive." Liadrin came to a halt before a large round table in one of the rear chambers of the Hall, upon which a map of Quel'Thalas lay. Red markers adorned its surface, keeping track of the deployed sin'dorei units throughout the lands, with newer-looking violet markers indicating the Forsaken forces, and she stared down at it intently as he replied with a smile.

"Well that's noteworthy; I've heard she's downright impossible to please." Liadrin nodded, her eyes not moving.

"It's true, but that makes her even more so the correct person to spearhead our efforts in the south. She brooks no arguments and accepts no excuses."

"The way you're describing her, she sounds…almost like someone I know." Talian called out softly to her after a long moment of silence. She turned her head to see the mischievous grin across his face, then snorted a laugh and returned her gaze to the table.

"You think  _I'm_  bad? I'll make sure to post you to Tranquillien as soon as possible, then, so you can learn the true definition of the word." She paused for a moment, then jabbed a finger at the map, in the north-eastern reaches of southern Quel'Thalas, the place now called the Ghostlands. He frowned to recall its moniker, remembering with great fondness the wonderful villages and homes that had once adorned its countryside. To know that they now sat beneath some eternal gloom and damnation boiled his blood, and he pushed away the anger with no small amount of effort. "I've had a group of recruits aiding the Forsaken as much as they can around this area."

"Kathrios Suncrown's old village?" he asked. She nodded.

"That's the place. Apparently there has been a heightened nerubian presence there." She sighed for a moment, shaking her head. "We knew that was what destroyed the village originally, Kathrios and his kin cut down by the monstrous spiders the Lich King brought with him. I suppose it was only a matter of time until they started breeding." She seemed to shiver slightly at the thought, but quickly composed herself.

"What have your recruits uncovered?"

"Nothing," she replied forcefully, turning to face him. "At least, nothing that's made it back to me."

" _Anar'alah_ , you think they've been killed?"

"Or captured; I'm not sure what's worse."

"Captured would definitely be worse," the rough voice called out from behind them. Liadrin's gaze moved over Talian's shoulder, and he turned to follow it. Lord Solanar Bloodwrath entered with a nod for each of them, adorned in his black and crimson armor. He held Liadrin's gaze for but a moment, and matched Talian's for far longer. Solanar had been vocally in favor of stripping titles and property from all members of families who followed Kael'thas, not just the ones who chose to do so willingly. The man had never liked or trusted Talian's father, and he imagined the same discourtesy applied to him now as well. "You're sending him to Suncrown?" he asked Liadrin, his eyes not moving from Talian's.

"Yes," she replied, turning back to the map. Neither man followed her with his gaze. Talian could feel Solanar appraising his worth, and he was resolved to stand fast. A long moment of quiet passed, but Liadrin seemed lost in the military strategy within her head, and eventually Solanar spoke again.

"Good," he nodded, then looked away to cross to the opposite side of the table. "It will be a good chance for him to prove his house stands with Silvermoon once again." He chuckled to himself, then met Talian's eyes again. "Or do you imagine you're likely to swear allegiance to the spiders instead? Like father, like son?" Talian's mind welled with fury, but he pushed it down, refusing to take the bait.

"I think you'll find I'm quite the opposite of my father, Solanar." Failing to use the man's title between two equals was a political slight, although a small one, and Solanar picked up on it immediately, his brow furrowing slightly in irritation. Talian and Liadrin had known each other for years, titles and formality held little sway between them, but for someone like Solanar, the gesture was akin to a slap in the face. "As should have been evidenced already by my presence here, defending the city while our people slaughtered my brethren in Outland."

"Yes, well..." he trailed off, breaking the death glare he had been giving Talian to look back down at the map. "We shall see."

They discussed his orders a bit more, and then Liadrin dismissed him with a reassuring nod. He was to make for his home in Sunvale Enclave and obtain any supplies he needed, then ride for Tranquillien at first light. He thought about her words as he wound his way through the city streets toward the main gate, thoughts of the monumental task ahead of him, and he shook his head as he stepped out into the autumnal beauty of Eversong. He found his charger, Adarien, stabled neatly by the gates, and whistled out to him as he approached.

The stallion neighed loudly, stamping his hooves as Talian approached with a wide grin. He held out a hand, and the steed pressed his face against it as Talian patted his chest gently. "Well, old boy, they're getting better, I'll give them that." The horse tossed his head slightly, and Talian laughed. "No, truly, they are. If Maleryn can learn to stand properly, she may be a force of reckoning yet." He swung up on top of Adarien as he continued, the horse beginning to tread the road towards home by instinct, as he had many times before. "I'm a bit worried I may have injured Dalitha's hand, you should have seen the way that spear shattered, it even surprised me." He continued to speak as they moved through the beautiful forests, knowing from experience that the stallion felt more at ease when hearing his voice, but eventually the conversation ran dry, and they rode silently along the road. They had traveled east from the gates of the city, and after a while came upon the foothills of the eastern mountain range that comprised the edge of Quel'Thalas. Far to the south, he could just barely see Duskwither Spire, its inhabitants long gone and now replaced by creatures of the arcane, a testament to the dangerous work they had been performing there. Further north he could still see the walls of Silvermoon, and was impressed once more at how truly massive the city was that its reach extended all the way to these hills. They pressed on for a time, and eventually he saw home rising in the distance as the sun began to cast long shadows ahead of him from its position on the horizon behind.

House Sunvale had been aptly named, after its people's residence in the small eastern valley of the isle. Sunvale Enclave was nestled amidst the mountain range which, it was said, was the first piece of Quel'Thalas that the dawn's light reached every morning. He smiled as he saw the familiar domed buildings, their intricately carved columns granting passage to the large open chambers within. He remembered his mother once saying that spires were for the vain, and that the higher an elf reached for the sun, then surely the lesser was his security in his own strength. The buildings of House Sunvale were simple, elegant creations; meant to hold the eye for the briefest of moments and then release it, not to impose a state of wonderment or awe. His smile quickly faded into the slightest frown, however, when he passed the slew of empty and dilapidated homes on either side of the main street. The people of his house had, almost to a man, thrown in their lot with his father, with Kael'thas, and he imagined that even now their corpses lay strewn in the bleak reaches of Netherstorm and Shadowmoon. He shook his head as he reached the main hall, climbing down off of Adarien and giving him a gentle pat, even as the old stallion began to move off toward where he knew the stables would be. They would be freshly stocked, of that Talian was certain.

"Lord Talian," the elf called out to him from between two grandiose columns at the top of the stairs ahead. "Welcome back."

Talian smiled, ascending the steps and shaking his hand. "Zarevin, good to be home. Such as it is."

"I think you'll find it at least marginally better than when you left us three days past, my Lord."

"Oh?" he replied with the faintest chuckle. "What have you been up to this time?"

"Well it was Irenia's idea, I think it only fair I allow her to be the one to explain it to you." This time Talian did laugh, and he followed Zarevin through the halls of the main manor. With the entirety of House Sunvale doing Kael'thas' bidding in Outland, Talian defending the walls of Silvermoon, and his brother Kalos missing, the estate had quickly fallen into disrepair. When the Outland campaign had finished a few months prior, Talian had been given leave of his service, in light of his now being the eminent Lord of House Sunvale, and bidden to return to the estate and get the house's affairs in order. As he walked with Zarevin, he remembered with a smile the sad group of refugees he'd found encroaching on his house's estate when he'd first returned home, some hundred and fifty or so, and how terrified they had been of his potential wrath. But in that moment, scarred by the betrayal of his father and kin, hurt by the absence of his brother, and overwhelmed by the station that had just been hefted upon him, he had welcomed them into his home. Many of them had been the last remnants of smaller houses, or just simple families, obliterated by the Scourge's incursion, and he would not be the man to turn them away in their hour of need. In that regard, as in many others, he was most certainly not his father's son.

The kindness and mercy he'd shown him had already in this short time been repaid a hundred-fold. They had maintained the manor house, begun restoration of the other buildings in the Enclave, and while they knew of his family's betrayal of their people, they held no qualm with him, and treated him with the respect due any Lord of a great house. For that alone he owed them more than he could ever return; their looks of honest affection for him were worth more than any sneering lordling's favor he was likely to find within the walls of Silvermoon, and more and more he relished the times when he could return to his home. More than ever, with these people here, it had truly felt like one.

Zarevin led him through an open archway and into the grand hall of the manor. His father had always been a conqueror of beasts, and it had shown. Throughout his childhood, the heads of large animals and weapons of every variety had adorned the walls in some grim testament to the potency of the hunter which ruled the house. But no longer. Talian's mouth fell open of its own accord as he slowed his pace upon entering, taking in the new sight. The heads were gone, as were the weapons. In their stead hung banners of the Blood Knight order between wall sconces glowing with arcane light. The lord's seat, once a simple chair adorned with carvings of animals, was now a high-backed and crimson-padded throne. Intricate detailing of the flora of Eversong played upon the armrests and the back of the chair, and at its crown, a radiant sun, seeming to beam down its rays upon the head of the lord seated beneath it. Animal skin rugs had been traded for flowing crimson runners, and the flagstones of the chamber, once soiled and chipped with age and neglect, had been polished and carved into a smooth, beautiful flooring. Talian slowly knelt, running his bare fingers over the stones, and after a long moment looked back up to Zarevin in disbelief.

"You've...by the Sunwell, Zarevin, you've transformed the place entirely..." The other elf's brow furrowed for a moment, unsure of whether or not he approved.

"Oh, don't tell me he doesn't like it," Came the high-pitched voice from across the hall. Both men's eyes flicked across to meet Irenia's as she entered through a doorway in the far wall, wiping her hands on a cloth as she walked. Her fiery red hair hung loose about her shoulders, and her pale skin almost reflected the light from the sconces as she crossed over to them. Talian stood and turned to face her fully.

"This...you did all of this?"

"I did, my Lord," she replied, stammering when Zarevin let out a telling cough. "Well, that is, I planned it all. We all pitched in to see it through."

"I..." he trailed off for a moment, taking the room in all over again before shaking his head. "I feel unworthy of such a beautiful hall."

"Well," Irenia began slowly, "If you hadn't taken us in, none of us would be here to have done it for you. And no one would be around to tell you when you're wrong, like right now." Her brazenness snapped him out of his stupor, and he turned to look at her again. Her single raised eyebrow and the smirk on her face gave him all the context he needed, and he chuckled at her. She whipped out the cloth she'd been carrying, striking him on the chest. "So you'd better  _start_  feeling worthy of it, because we all sure as hell think you are." She smiled genuinely as she finished, and he crossed over to her, placing a kiss on her forehead.

"Thank you," he whispered, then turned to Zarevin. "All of you." The other elf nodded deeply, waiting a moment before speaking.

"The others are working on restoring the grand library, my Lord, or retrieving the first harvest from the fields."

"The spells worked, then?" he asked, slowly walking around the edge of the room and running his hand along the banners.

"Yes," Irenia replied, smiling as he toured her work. "The Scourge was barely here, but it was enough to fallow the fields. The other arcanists and I were able to cleanse their magic from the soil, and it seems to have done the trick. With any luck, they're out there pulling in the first new harvest from the lands of Sunvale in many moons."

Talian smiled as he turned around to the pair of them. "Then I'd say tonight's a good night to break-in the new main hall, wouldn't you?"

Zarevin smiled, his short-cropped white hair shaking slightly as he chuckled. "I would at that, my Lord. I'll let the others know." With a nod of respect, he turned and left via the same passageway through which Irenia had entered. Talian's eyes found their way to the throne, and he marveled at it once more until Irenia's quiet laughter interrupted him. He looked over to her, and she covered her mouth to stop it growing louder.

"Well are you going to sit in it, or just stare at it until it rots away?" He smiled, shaking his head at her, and crossed to it. The intricate details were only more pronounced now that he stood closer, and he replied to her without taking his eyes off of the seat as he trailed his fingers across the delicate design.

"My father led this house for a century and a half," he said quietly. "Its people prospered, but never smiled. Its stores ran full with food, but none was shared when others were in need. Its soldiers were skilled, but never came to another's aid, and in the end, they turned against the very people with whom they shared these lands."

"Yes," she replied just as quietly. "Your father led this house to glory, but never to greatness. For that takes another mind, another heart, altogether. He prized strength above service, pride over compassion, and in the end it was his undoing."

"And me?" he asked, in all but a whisper. "What will they say of me when I am long since departed from these halls? What will they say of Talian Sunvale when the next man or woman hesitates to take this seat, and contemplates the true weight of the title?"

"Nothing," Irenia replied instantly. The speed of her answer surprised him, and he turned his head to look at her questioningly. She took a few slow steps toward the lord's seat and stopped, holding his attention completely. "When your time here is at an end, my Lord, their grief for the passing of the golden age of House Sunvale will overwhelm them. And they will say nothing."

Her faith struck him like a blade, and he turned away from her, pushing back the tears that welled in the corners of his eyes. He looked up to the carving of the sun that adorned the high back of the chair, and nodded.  _Seize the opportunity_ , Liadrin's words rang in his mind, and he turned around, slowly taking the seat that had long awaited him. Across the distance between them, the great hall's only other occupant smiled warmly before bowing her head in respect. When she raised it again, Talian could swear he saw tears of her own in the corners of her glowing eyes.

"And so it begins," she whispered.

* * *

Vaelyth laughed quietly, shaking her head once again at the splashing sound that found its way up to her ears from the dock below her. She sat cross-legged atop one of the large mooring posts of the southern dock in Rut'theran Village, at the base of Teldrassil. Below her, Avrena sat on the planks themselves, her hooves dangling off the edge and into the water, splashing as she kicked back and forth. Her boots sat on the dock beside her in a small heap, and a smile played across her lips as she churned the water with her legs.

"I'd have thought you'd have been fully satisfied with doing that while we waited for the ship that brought us here," the elf called down to her with a smile. The draenei shook her head emphatically.

"I am still enjoying it, save for the snarky comments I get from jealous bystanders," she looked at Vaelyth out of the corner of her eye, a small grin appearing on her face.

"Snarky?" Vaelyth called back in feigned offense. "I am many things, lady, but  _snarky_?" She paused for a moment in thought. "And  _jealous_? Of what?"

"I am not sure," she called back in her clipped accent. "Perhaps the fact that I can have fun in the water without drenching all of my armor in it?"

"Ok, that was  _one time_ ," Vaelyth shot back as Avrena began to laugh. "And it wasn't exactly what I would call fun! In fact, it was probably..." she trailed off as Avrena continued to giggle at her and kick the water, then shook her head as she looked off into the distance, seeing the familiar white sails. "Ah, forget it. Ship's here anyway." She stood up, adjusting the bag on her shoulder, and hopped down off the post, snatching Avrena's boots as she landed. The draenei cried out in protest, hopping to her feet with a grace Vaelyth hadn't anticipated, but she backed away from her with a laugh. After a moment, Avrena's mouth turned up in a smile and she muttered a small incantation. The buckles by which Vaelyth held her boots began to glow with heat, and the elf cursed as she dropped them to the surface of the dock. "Ah, come on...no fair."

Avrena laughed quietly, slipping on her boots and patting Vaelyth on the shoulder. "I hope that did not hurt...too much." Her smile deepened and Vaelyth rolled her eyes.

"Yea, yea. Who's snarky now?" Avrena laughed again, and the two of them walked to the edge of the dock as the ship approached. They boarded and Vaelyth paid the crew for a private cabin and a bottle of wine, knowing the journey would be a long one. Avrena protested at first, but after hearing how much they wanted for a trip to Stormwind, she had quickly allowed Vaelyth to cover her. They were led down into the hull of the ship and shown to their quarters, a small room with two beds and a short table in between them, a single candle sitting atop its surface to light the room. After handing her a bottle from the crew's supplier, the man had nodded his appreciation of their patronage and departed, leaving them together in the room.

"You didn't have to pay my way," Avrena said quietly, and Vaelyth chuckled.

"Of course I did. These guys are completely fleecing anyone coming aboard, you'd have ended up giving them that pretty silk robe of yours for a ride." She accentuated the statement with a wink, and Avrena unconsciously reached up to brush her fingers along the collar of the garment. "And then," she said in a muffled voice as she pulled the cork out of the bottle with her teeth, spitting it over toward the door when she'd pried it loose, "we'd have a whole mess of other problems on our hands, wouldn't we?"

Avrena blushed, and Vaelyth laughed quietly, taking a sip from the bottle and offering it across to her friend. The draenei looked at it with skepticism, and Vaelyth gestured with it again before she reached out with both hands and took it from her.

"Go on," Vaelyth encouraged her, "it doesn't bite." A sour aftertaste suddenly hit her mouth and she shook her head to clear it away. "Whew...never mind; it  _does_  bite."

Avrena smiled at her and hesitantly took a sip from the bottle, her face almost immediately twisting up in pain. She swallowed it down, coughing and sputtering as she passed the bottle back across to Vaelyth, who could barely hold it surely for all her laughing.

"Ugh! By the Light, that is...likely the worst thing I have ever tasted." Vaelyth's laughter redoubled, even as she took another drink from the bottle.

"Yea, it's definitely not top-shelf, but it'll do the trick."

Avrena looked at her, confusion apparent on her blue face. "What trick?" Vaelyth grinned over at her, shaking the bottle in her hand.

"Only one way to find out," she whispered conspiratorially. Avrena rolled her eyes, and after a long moment, reached back across for the bottle.

Hours passed, and as their tongues loosened, Avrena began to tell Vaelyth a continuation of her story, which had begun during their travels from Ashenvale through quiet Darkshore, and across the sea on the small ship that had brought them to Rut'theran. She, like Vaelyth, had been the daughter of a highly-sought-after leatherworker among her people, and had lost her mother in the Exodar's crash landing on Azeroth. She and her father had learned to lean on each other heavily since then, and when she had been informed by one of the magi that she possessed latent magical talent, her father had been reticent to allow her leave for training. Eventually, he had come around to the idea, and when Avrena's natural curiosity had pulled her away from Azuremyst, he had reluctantly equipped her as best he could and bid her farewell.

Avrena had stopped in her tracks at that point in her tale, as they stood on the main road of Darkshore looking out over the nearby shoreline. She had pulled a small crystal on a silver chain from under her robes where it lay against her chest. It had belonged to her mother, and had been given to her when she left the island, a constant reminder of her only remaining family, ever-waiting for her return. She had cried then, and Vaelyth had held her close as she had done for her many nights past.

"Offer's still on the table," Vaelyth told her after taking a long drink from the bottle. After their conversation about her mother's crystal, Vaelyth had offered to take Avrena back to Azuremyst. The draenei hadn't even responded, simply shook her head and walked away further down the road toward Auberdine. Vaelyth had needed to jog to catch up to her. She passed the bottle over to her friend, who had to try twice to take it from her.

"N...No, thank you," she managed, throwing the bottle back and taking an even larger pull than Vaelyth had, earning her an approving smile from the elven woman. "I have to...I, um..." she squeezed her eyes shut to dispel the cobwebs of drunkenness in her mind, shaking her head slightly before opening them again. "It's important that my people get involved in...stuff." Vaelyth chuckled, reaching over and taking the bottle from her before she dropped it.

"Oh yea," she replied sarcastically as she leaned back against the wall of their quarters, "'Stuff.' Can't imagine where we'd be if you didn't get involved in all that...stuff...out there." Avrena shrugged in response, muttering something in her native tongue that Vaelyth was hopeless to translate. Across from her, Avrena began to sway back and forth, and Vaelyth chuckled again, setting the bottle down on the table between them and crossing over to guide her down onto the bed. "There we go. Easy, my lady Grand Magister."

"You...say things...that aren't funny at all," she mumbled, and Vaelyth grinned.

"I thought it was pretty funny."

Avrena pointed a slender blue finger up at her, then shifted it to point over her shoulder, then back to her face, unsure of which Vaelyth that she saw was the real one. "You...are biased." Vaelyth laughed again, reaching down to brush some of the draenei's dark purple hair off of her face, and to untie the band holding her ponytail together. The woman's hair fell in waves unleashed onto the pillow beneath her head, and she continued to mumble incoherently as her heavy eyelids began to slide down into place. Vaelyth rubbed her shoulder gently as she drifted off into a drunken slumber, and smiled down at her for a long moment before crossing the cabin, grabbing the bottle, and sitting back on her own bed, her elbows on her knees.

She tilted her head back after taking another pull from the bottle, letting the sweet, acrid liquid linger in the back of her throat as she stared up at the ceiling. She let her eyes find their way to the glowing orb that Avrena had conjured for them to illuminate the cabin in lieu of the inadequate candle, and smiled reflexively before drinking the last of the wine and setting the bottle quietly back on the table. She still wasn't sure what had convinced Avrena to stick with her so closely, to treat her with the kindness she had, but she was damned glad of it. Some small, ancient part of her almost wanted to thank Elune that she'd crossed paths with the woman, but she shoved the thought violently out of her mind. She closed her eyes, feeling the movement of the ship over the tranquil waves, and allowed them to work with the wine to soothe her racing mind.

Thanking Elune was pointless. Instead, she would just be sure to thank Avrena.


	7. Chapter 6

_Author's_   _Note:_  
I'm publishing this one way later in the evening than I normally do, so let me know  
if there are any inconsistencies with the lore here. I've take a little free reign with  
early blood elf history, but hey, you're on a fan fiction site, right? No complaining. :P

Note 2: I had to pull this immediately to fix some small errors, and I'm re-posting it now.  
Sorry for the false flag!

* * *

**~ 6 ~**

"So he's sitting on the stump of a felled tree, his boots just soaked through with river water and packed with mud, and he reaches down..."

"He did  _not_!" Irenia interrupted Zarevin, incredulity apparent in her voice. The older elf simply laughed, nodding in reply before catching his breath enough to continue.

"He reaches down, picks up the sword, and waves it at me. Says, 'It'll take more than sending me for an afternoon swim to stop me refuting your claim!'" A round of laughter burst forth at the table, and Talian's smile deepened for a moment at the wondrous sound that he'd never truly heard ringing around the hall before. His father had been a somber man, and had surrounded himself with like minds; laughter and mirth were not high on his list of regular emotions. He took another sip from the cup in his hand and shifted in the lord's seat, leaning back against it into a more comfortable position. Around him at the head table, those he had invited there in honor, those who had truly taken charge of renovation projects and caring for the band of refugees he'd given safe haven on his land, continued to laugh at the pause in Zarevin's tale.

He looked around at each of them with a smile as they ate, drank, and sometimes chatted quietly among themselves. When his eyes came to rest on Irenia, she was already looking back at him, and smiled just a bit deeper, as if reading his mind. He held her gaze for a moment, then gave her the slightest of nods and looked out over the rest of the hall. Six long tables had been brought in, scavenged from the once-ornate homes of higher-ranking members of his family and arranged here to serve the Enclave's new occupants. Every bench around them sat filled with elves talking, eating, and laughing, and for a moment he could almost have been convinced that the Scourge had never set foot in Quel'Thalas, that these people with whom he now shared his home weren't the remnants and orphans of a hundred other families or small houses. For a moment, everything felt right.

"Wait, just a moment," a man named Torvas called from the end of the head table, and Talian looked across to him, as did the other occupants. His red hair sat short-cropped atop his head, and his sharp face still held a small smile for what Zarevin had thus far relayed of the story. Irenia had brought Talian up to speed on the more prominent members of the group, and he recalled Torvas as the one responsible for heading up the hunting parties that had kept everyone fed while Irenia and her arcanists had worked to cleanse the fields. "You said earlier that the lady whose hand you had asked for was standing right there while all this was happening? And her father as well?"

Zarevin, to Talian's left, chuckled, setting down his cup and nodding thoroughly. "Oh yes. And, I'll have you know, both of them had happily accepted my request. Her brother challenged me to a duel of honor all of his own accord." Another round of small laughs cropped up at the mental image.

"So what happened next?" Another of the head table's occupants spoke up, a woman called Aelaryn, who had taken charge of all medical treatments the group had needed in the time they'd spent in the Enclave. Her shoulder-length brown hair was, this evening, pulled back into a simple ponytail, and for a brief moment the sight of her reminded Talian of Liadrin, and he wished with all his heart that she could have been here to share the evening with all of them. He took another drink, turning to look back at Zarevin.

"Well," the elf replied slowly, "I'd love to tell you all that we had the most grandiose of duels ever recorded in our nation's histories..."

"But?" Talian said quietly, the grin already in place on his lips. Zarevin looked to him and laughed.

"Well, he attempted to charge me, but his mud-caked boots were a bit heavier than he'd accounted for, and he tripped over his own two feet halfway across the field. Fell over and twisted his ankle in a terrible way." The table burst into laughter once more, and as it subsided, Zarevin pushed down his own laughter to finish the tale. "I...I offered to help him up, and he slapped away my hand. His father, exasperated by now, suggested we simply leave him there. His lovely daughter and I were wed that very night." He paused for a moment, sitting in his chair with a warm smile on his face, then sighed. "Eighty-five wonderful years, we had together. I wouldn't have traded them for anything." Talian looked around the table again, seeing the same smile on all of their faces. It was one of memory, of better times long since passed, of the lost remembered. His own smile faded, and he took his cup, raising it above the table and catching all of their attention.

"To the fallen, and the lost," he said quietly, and they all immediately emulated his gesture. "May they rest well in the Light's embrace, and know that they are never forgotten." Hushed agreements and assurances came from around the table, and when he looked to Zarevin, the old elf nodded to him in thanks, the tears already forming in the corners of his eyes. Talian clapped a hand on his shoulder in support, then looked out over the hall before standing from the lord's seat. The handful of elves at the other tables who saw the gesture quickly informed their peers, and in a short moment the hall had hushed into silence. Talian reached down beside the lord's seat, retrieving the leather-bound book he'd brought with him after touring the renovations being made to the grand library, and held it up for all to see. Its brown leather still held well after many years, the result of being well-cared for, and the golden filigree on its covers and spine shone as brightly as the day it had been inlaid.

"This," he called out, his voice carrying across the hall, "is a book that contains the annals of succession for House Sunvale. Every head of this house, every man or woman who led its people, has inscribed their name on the pages within. After their time in the lord's seat had finished, our record-keepers would follow behind, leaving an historical account of what they achieved, what they accomplished in the name of my family." He paused for a moment, sweeping his eyes across those of all in attendance, before taking a breath and continuing. "My father's name is the last inscribed, and for reasons of which we're all painfully aware, no historical account follows his name. I've been advised by many who would claim to know how to act in my position that I should leave it blank, and let history forget one of the greatest betrayals our people have ever suffered. But I will not turn my eyes away from the past, from the misdeeds of the few that led to the suffering of so many. Like all of you, like every member of the sin'dorei, I must remember the past, no matter how much it hurts, for losing it would undoubtedly hurt far more."

All around the hall, heads nodded in silent agreement and respect, and he opened the book to a fresh page, blank save for a single name inscribed on its surface. He stared down at it for a long moment before holding the book up again, its pages facing the crowd. "This evening, in accordance with House Sunvale's acts of succession and, admittedly, with an unsteady hand, I entered my name into this book, taking up my father's position as Lord of House Sunvale." He had expected a few of them would clap or cheer quietly, and so it shocked him when a roar of applause and cries of support burst forward from those in attendance. A few of the elves in the hall were on their feet as they cheered, and he felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment as he looked down for a moment to compose himself. The warmth of their love and support radiated throughout his chest, and for the briefest of moments he chided himself for ever considering not walking this path.  _Liadrin wins again_ , he thought to himself with a smile, and raised his eyes to meet theirs as the cheers subsided.

"Thank you...all of you, but there's one more thing I need to mention. Not just with Zarevin or Irenia, or the other invaluable elves beside me who took it upon themselves to ensure that this place would be one of safe haven and respite for all of us." He looked around at them, radiating his gratitude, and to an elf they nodded back at him or bowed slightly in appreciation of their recognition. He flipped back through the pages of the book as he spoke again. "As it stands, this house, while once again having a Lord, is a house of two. I stand before you the only member of its ranks in Quel'Thalas. Earlier, when reading back through the deeds of the great elves who came before me, I came upon the histories of my ancestor Larethas, who marched behind Dath'Remar himself as our people first set foot in these lands." He looked around, hearing the hushed whispers and seeing that his audience sat captivated by their own history, then looked back down to read aloud from the page.

" _They were led from the seemingly-cursed fields of their initial landing, whose very ground had instilled a slow madness among the people. Great Dath'Remar, having led the people away from their ancient lands, across the seas, and now into the northern reaches, gathered unto him many of the heads of great families, those clans who had not felt as bitterly the sting of loss. Convinced that only a united people could weather the difficult road ahead, he implored them to strengthen their clans, to have them serve as the backbone of his new society, and to take the orphaned and the abandoned among them into their folds, to provide each with a sigil under which to stand proudly once more. Larethas obeyed his king, taking beneath his wing the broken and the lost, those whose lives were, in the wake of the desolation at the Well of Eternity, irrevocably undone. They strengthened the house, and the house strengthened them._ "

He closed the book in his hand, looking out over the silent crowd. He saw them truly, then. Their eyes knew a pain the likes of which had rarely been seen since that long northern march. Their souls bore the scars of atrocities untold, the loss of everything they'd held dear. They had found refuge here in the Enclave, but they needed more of him, and he of them. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, the imploring offer of a man who, despite the trappings of his station, desperately needed their help.

"For centuries, this house stood as a beacon of what it meant to be sin'dorei, long before our people even carried that name. I would restore it to what it was, to what it should be, for all our people." He cast his gaze around the quiet crowd, taking a deep breath. "But I cannot see it through on my own."

The crowd stayed quiet and still for a long moment, the crackling of the arcane flames in their sconces on the walls the only continuing sound. His heart pounded in his chest, and for the briefest of moments he saw it clearly, the end of his house, left alone to fade from memory as the passage of time destroyed everyth-

"I accept your offer, Lord Sunvale," the familiar voice came from behind him, and he closed his eyes shut in relief at its recognition. He would have known without turning, but turn he did, and he met Irenia's gaze as she spoke again. "You saw potential in us, you welcomed us when no other would. It will be my honor to take up the mantle of this house; to aid you in making it what it was always meant to be."

"And mine," Zarevin all but whispered to him, standing from his seat as well. His eyes flickered to the older elf, and he could see the stain of tears on his cheeks. "We've lost too much already. I won't stand idly by and watch this house that sheltered me in my time of need fall. Not when it has you, my Lord." He nodded to Talian.

All around the head table, the others rose to their feet, accepting his offer with a word of honor or simply a solemn nod. He met their eyes every time, and when the hall rang with the sound of benches being pushed against the flagstones beneath them, he looked back out over the length of the room. To an elf, they stood, men and women from every corner of Quel'Thalas, staring up at him with a fire in their eyes the likes of which he had never before seen. Their silent pledge, their oath unspoken, hammered into his chest, and he unconsciously took a step back, his calf colliding with the base of the lord's seat. He pushed back the tears in his eyes with every ounce of strength he had, continuing to look out over the gathered crowd. His people. His family.

"Zarevin," he called out loudly, still meeting the eyes of the men and women before him, "send word to Silvermoon, to the Regent Lord and his advisers, and to anyone who will listen. Tell them that the acts of succession are complete, and that House Sunvale stands ready to aid the Spire once again."

The hall erupted in a cacophony of cheers, screams, and exultation. Men and women raised their cups to him, some embraced each other, and still others stood in stoic awe of what had happened. He turned to Zarevin, clapping a hand on his shoulder and having to speak loudly for his voice to carry over the continuing din of the hall.

"I can't give you back what was taken from you, Zarevin." The older elf held his gaze intently, and nodded.

"No, my Lord. But you've given us all something equally important." Talian narrowed his eyes in confusion, and Zarevin continued. "A reason to go on, in the wake of it." They held each other in their regard for a moment longer, and then Zarevin bowed his head in respect and excused himself to see the message sent. Slowly, the din of his announcement began to wear down, the normal hum of conversation taking its place, and Talian resumed his seat, looking out at the hall full of people who had willingly called themselves his family. He remembered with a sting of pain the days after his father had expelled him and Kalos from these very halls, the lack of purpose, and the overwhelming pressure of isolation among his own people. He looked to the table before him, and the historical tome in whose pages he knew his father's name resided, and reached out to lay his hand gently upon its surface as he took the first truly relaxing deep breath his lungs had drawn in years.  _Never again,_  he thought to himself.  _Never again_.

* * *

The celebrations had continued long into the night, for although Talian himself had needed to ride at first light, he'd instructed everyone to not stop the festivities on his account. Talian had found his way through the manor to the lord's chambers, and entered them quietly, as if he could somehow still rouse the spirit of his father simply by trespassing here. No such spirit had awaited him, however, and it had brought a small smile to his face to see that Irenia had worked her magic here as well. Gone were the hunting trophies and the dark brown animal-skin blanket, replaced instead by Silvermoon banners and fine sheets in a deep crimson hue. He had fallen asleep almost immediately, and when dawn's light broke through the window, he awoke ready for the long journey.

He walked out through the halls, stepping gingerly over a few sleeping family members here and there, and smiling at each. A few people were already up and about on the Enclave grounds, and they nodded to him with smiles as he passed. When he reached the stables, he found Zarevin and Irenia waiting for him.

"My Lord," Zarevin called out as he approached. "The message was sent to Silvermoon as you instructed; they should receive it in a few hours' time."

"Good," he replied, checking the harness on Adarien, who neighed slightly at the sight of him. He patted the horse as he turned to Irenia. "I'm to head to Kathrios' old village to find some missing Blood Knight recruits and assess the situation; I'll need someone in charge of the Enclave while I'm away." Her eyes widened.

"Yes, of course. If you like, I can go rouse some potential candidates for you to—" She trailed off at his laughter.

"I meant  _you_ , Irenia."

"Oh…" she seemed speechless for a moment, but quickly composed herself. "Ah, yes. Of course, my Lord. It will be an honor." He nodded to her, then to Zarevin, and swung himself up into Adarien's saddle.

"If you haven't heard from me in three weeks' time…" he began, trailing off suddenly in quiet reflection, "send word to Lady Liadrin; she'll know what to do." The two of them seemed uncomfortable at the idea, and he beamed a smile down at them. "Don't try to take control of House Sunvale for yourself, Zarevin," he called out with a pointed finger.

"My Lord!" the elf called out.

"Oh, don't even try that," Talian countered, a humorous gleam in his eye. "I know you're just waiting for the right moment, you cunning old dragonhawk."

Zarevin laughed, as did Irenia, and a small silence fell between them all. Talian looked out over the Enclave once more, then back to the two of them. "Take care of our family," he whispered, and they nodded to him, wishing him a safe journey before he turned Adarien and tore off towards the main road leading south.

* * *

The skies above her were darkened slightly by gray clouds that seemed to all but threaten impending rainfall, and Liadrin's mouth twisted up slightly in confusion as she stared up into them, crossing over the long walkway that led up to Sunfury Spire. The Magisters should be keeping them away, and it was yet another sign that something was not right. There had been a few that morning: delayed messages from Lor'themar's office, Halduron seemingly having disappeared, and the lack of her daily update from Dame Auriferous regarding the deployment of Sin'dorei and Forsaken forces in the Ghostlands. The scowl began to reach her eyes as she passed into the central chamber, and she took in the room's occupants. Lor'themar himself stood behind a long table strewn with maps of Azeroth and reports from a dozen different divisions of sin'dorei society. His appearance struck her, his normally battle-ready attire having been traded for a formal suit, all in black. Halduron stood beside him, dressed similarly, and fumbled with the buttons around his cuffs as she approached them in the middle of a heated conversation.

"This isn't the time," Lor'themar said, shooting Halduron a glare.

"It's never going to  _be_  the time, Regent-Lord, until we  _make it_  the time." The Ranger-General replied, missing the glare in the seemingly-impossible task of buttoning his cuffs.

"Yes, yes, very mystical of you," Lor'themar shot back, grabbing a report from the table and tossing it over toward him. "Activity reports from the Dead Scar; increasing Scourge presence." He grabbed another and tossed it as well. "Operational ziggurats, creating abominations that stalk the roads of southern Quel'Thalas." Another report flew through the air and fluttered back down to the table's surface. "Gargoyle packs making aerial incursions from beyond the border with Lordaeron."

Halduron shook his head, giving up on the cuff and looking up to meet Lor'themar's eyes. "All threats that are much further from home than th-"

"Damn it, Halduron, it's the most  _pressing_  threat!" Lor'themar yelled, interrupting him. "The Scourge get stronger even as the Forsaken, along with our forces, cull their numbers at every opportunity. Dar'khan sits in his corrupted sanctum and laughs at us,  _laughs_ , as we fight to defend what he so long ago betrayed!"

"My Lord, our people-"

"Our people live in constant terror that we'll lose the Ghostlands, and that Scourge forces will come pouring across the Elrendar just like before!" He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath, and when he spoke again he was far more collected. "I'll keep it in mind, Halduron; you have my word. For now, continue to keep a watch guard on the eastern shore and alert us if the trolls make any large-scale moves. Keep sending your rangers south; we need them to hold what land we've already taken back."

Halduron stared into Lor'themar's eyes for a long moment, then nodded. "Understood, Regent-Lord." He looked back down to his cuffs while Lor'themar began to read through the reports on his table. Liadrin, having stood quietly at the edge of the room, crossed over to Halduron, batting away his ineffectual hands and buttoning his cuffs for him. She looked up at him sympathetically as she finished, and he gave her a small smile. "Thanks," he whispered, and she nodded.

"Did I miss something?" she asked quietly, gesturing to their outfits. Lor'themar closed his eyes and sighed deeply.

"Just some scheduled meetings and dinners. All part of our ongoing efforts to appease the local nobility and entice them to dedicate more resources to our cause."

Halduron chuckled and shot her a wink. "We're  _attempting_  to appear respectable."

"Attempting and failing, I believe," Lor'themar grumbled, earning a small chuckle from his friend. Liadrin nodded in understanding, and a long moment of silence passed before she spoke again.

"Should I...?" she gestured over her shoulder, but Lor'themar shook his head.

"No, but I appreciate the offer, Liadrin. Halduron and I will go contend with the beasts. I need you here; the reports from the south have been slow-coming."

"I noticed," she replied. She paused for a moment, choosing her words. "Regent-Lord, there was another matter I wanted to discuss with you."

"Oh?" he replied, looking up from the reports on the table. Despite the many, and arguably more difficult, situations she'd been in, she swallowed hard before speaking.

"I've been reaching out to the existing paladin orders: the Silver Hand and the Argent Dawn." Halduron's face twisted up in confusion.

"Why, exactly?" he asked. Liadrin sighed.

"When the forces of Azeroth invaded Outland, they saw the Blood Knights as enemies, regardless of my actions in Shattrath. Now that we've reformed the order, I want to dispel that misconception."

"And you believe the best way to do that is ingratiating the order with those of your same kind?" Lor'themar finished for her, and she nodded, seeing that he'd followed her point. He thought for a moment. "How are your knights recovering from the adjustment?"

"It varies, elf to elf," she replied quietly. "A solid handful of them are almost fit for duty once more. Some, like Talian, were trained near enough to Kael'thas' betrayal to have easily transitioned."

"How is our newest Lord?" Halduron asked off-handedly, adjusting the sleeves of the shirt he wore. Liadrin smiled, even as her conscious mind wondered why.

"He's fine. Training in the yard with several recruits this morning."

"Yes, one could hear the clanging from here," Halduron replied, shooting her a disarming smile in the process.

"I've sent him back to Sunvale Enclave, then on to the south tomorrow. He'll assist the Spire by investigating my missing recruits near Suncrown Village."

"He'll do more than that," Lor'themar replied with a smile. When her face belied her confusion, he reached down to the table, handing her a rolled parchment. "That came by messenger this morning," he began as she unrolled it and began to read, the knowing smile finding its way to her lips once more as she could almost hear Talian speaking to her through the letter. "Apparently, not only does House Sunvale renounce the actions of its last lord and pledge itself fully to the Spire, it's also taken a large group of displaced refugees into its ranks." Lor'themar shook his head slightly in admiration. "The man knows his histories; I'll give him that."

"He'll make a great leader for House Sunvale," Liadrin replied, finishing the message and placing it back down on the table.

"I imagine he had some help getting there," Halduron pitched in with a wink for her. She felt a heat in her cheeks, but refused to show it, and once again her mind screamed at her in confusion.

"Yes, well," she began, seemingly unable to form a sentence, and shook her head slightly. "Regardless, I want to prove to the other orders that the Blood Knights are truly reformed; I think cooperation will go a long way towards earning that trust, especially as both the Horde and Alliance prepare for a campaign in Northrend."

"Liadrin," Lor'themar began carefully, and she narrowed her eyes at his tone. He glanced to Halduron, who looked pointedly away, and then met her gaze steadily as he continued. "I'm not sending the order to Northrend."

"You can't be serious," she replied, the heat in her voice rising. "The order has a sworn duty to defend our people and eradicate the Scourge!"

"And you will," he reassured her. "While the Blood Knights recover from the Sunwell's cleansing, I'm keeping them here to defend the city while the bulk of our armies move north to challenge the Lich King's territory."

"That's assuming we're even accepted into the Horde," Halduron muttered, and Lor'themar sighed.

"Yes, we're working on that. But regardless of what banner we march under, I won't have our people stand isolated in these lands while Arthas amasses his forces in Northrend."

Liadrin shook her head violently. "Lor'themar, this is ridiculous! Arthas defiled my knights' lands, slaughtered their families! You can't just keep—!"

"I  _can_ , Liadrin," he cut her off harshly, his eyes brimming with the fury of being challenged. He held her gaze for a long moment before stepping away, walking a few paces around the room before returning to the table in a more composed manner. "The order is weak. It's no fault of yours, or your knights, but there you have it. If I send your barely-recovered knights against Arthas' forces, all I'm doing is killing them for him. And then what will their righteous vengeance do for them?"

He was right, she knew it in her heart, and that made it sting all the more. She pulled her eyes from his and focused them on an arcane brazier along the curve of the room's back wall. She stared into its lapping flames for a long moment, then nodded her head silently. Lor'themar, to his credit, turned his face up in a grimace.

"I'm sorry, Liadrin. I know how much this fight means to you."

"To all of us," she corrected him, quietly but with ice dripping from her words. He nodded.

"Of course," he conceded. A long, tense, moment fell between them, and then she sighed and spoke again.

"And the paladin orders?"

Lor'themar turned his head in a half-shake, considering the proposal. "We have the Scourge in the south to deal with at the moment, as I was telling Halduron when you arrived. Let's hear Talian's and Auriferous' reports first, and decide how best to handle them. With Sylvanas and the Forsaken bolstering our ranks, we should be able to stabilize Quel'Thalas." He took a long breath, exhaling slowly. "Once that's done, if you'd like to send a delegation to the paladins, I won't stand in your way. But I would caution you to temper your expectations, Liadrin. These people won't know your worth as we do." Beside him, Halduron nodded to her staunchly, supporting her as best he could.

"I understand," she replied quietly. Another tense moment hung in the air, and she decided to defuse it for them. "Give my well-wishes to the nobility, and try to come back with all your fingers."

"We will," Halduron replied with a chuckle. Beside him, Lor'themar nodded. Liadrin inclined her head in respect to the Regent Lord and excused herself, leaving the Spire and walking back into the streets of Silvermoon. The earlier clouds had cleared away, and the sun cast its rays down upon her silver armor, its surfaces gleaming in the mid-day light. Thoughts raced through her head, and she wondered what she could have said to change Lor'themar's mind, to prove her point more effectively. As with many of battles she'd fought in her life, she found herself poring over the encounter in its aftermath, wondering what could have been done better. Eventually, she shook her head in defeat as she wound her way back to the Hall of Blood. Along the way, elves greeted her or nodded in respect, but she noticed none of them, caught up in her own thoughts as she was.

She passed through the main hallway, following the winding halls into the recesses of the building, and eventually into her personal chambers, shutting the large door behind her and leaning her back against it. The room was a simple one, devoid of the lavish curtains and tapestries that many of her people preferred. A decently-sized bed sat against the far wall, reaching out towards her, while to her right a simple desk, dresser, and vanity stood against the wall. Sighing heavily, she pushed off the door and moved to her left, toward the armor rack she kept. She reached down, unlatching each piece and hanging it in its place on the rack. The last bit of it, her right sabaton, refused to unclasp despite her best efforts, and she pulled on it with all her might. It came free with a sudden burst of speed, and she quickly steadied herself before tumbling into the now-full armor rack. She swore under her breath, hurling the boot across the room in a blind fury. It struck the small end table beside her bed, causing the drawer within to jut out slightly and sending the few items atop it scattering to the floor. She hung her head, inwardly chiding herself for losing control, then adjusted her undershirt and black leggings before crossing over to kneel and clean up the mess.

The few items that had scattered were mainly encounter reports from the south, personal assessments on her recovering knights, and a candle by which she read over them late at night. She gathered them all, placing them neatly on the end table once more before picking up the boot and tossing it over to land near the armor rack. She reached down to push the drawer back into its housing, and her hand paused for a moment at what she saw inside. After the moment's pause, she reached gingerly into the drawer to retrieve the small pendant, an artistically-hammered dragonhawk on a thin golden chain. A smile found its way to her face as the memory flooded back.

_She'd been staring at the pendant for what felt like hours, though in reality it had probably only been a few minutes. All around her, sin'dorei children ran laughing, swiping at each other with toy swords won at the nearby game stalls. It wasn't often that Falconwing Square was transformed into this hub of games and contests, performance artists and musicians, but this day it had been, and she was glad to be here. An elven child swept past her, two more chasing after him, and the gust of their passing tousled her hair. She replaced it with a slightly-shaking hand, tucking the wayward strands behind her ear as she watched an elf juggle an almost incalculable number of wooden orbs far into the air above his head._

_"We should be getting back, Liadrin," Vandellor's voice called softly over her shoulder. She spun in place to look slightly up at him, her white acolyte's robes swirling with the gesture around her adolescent body, and her young eyes beseeching him for just a moment's more time._

_"I had thought that perhaps…we could stay a little longer?" Vandellor smiled down at her, and the gesture was only half-grimace. He looked around the square, and seeing no apparent threat met her gaze again._

_"You can stay for another hour or so, if you'd like. I must get back and assist the other priests; more elves come back from the eastern front with injuries every day, it seems. You'll find me in the clinic near the Spire when you're finished?" She grinned, nodding enthusiastically, and he squeezed her shoulder warmly before turning to walk back along the path. He looked back once, and she waved to him, a gesture which he returned with a laugh before continuing back to the city gates. She took another look around the square, smiling at all the things to see and do, then looked back at the pendant for another moment before a conversation between two nearby elves caught her attention._

_"I'm telling you: once more, and you'll wish you'd never spent your prize tokens on that stick, Kalos." Her eyes found the taller elf pointing a stern finger at one who could have easily passed for his twin, if missing a few inches of height. The younger elf, Kalos she'd heard him called, chuckled at the threat from his older companion, and faked a few swings at him, pulling away at the last moment to avoid contact._

_"I'm not hitting you, Tal. I'm just getting reeeeally close!" The taller elf rolled his eyes in annoyance and began to walk in her general direction. She wanted to go look at the juggler, or perhaps the mage in the far corner of the square who appeared to be eating fire, but instead she kept watching the pair of them, and Kalos' continued near-miss harassment of his brother. She was sure they would walk right past her; after all, she knew no one in this part of Eversong, and had only come here recently, after…she shook her head, trying to push out the memories, the sights, the sounds. It only partially worked, and a tear worked its way out of the corner of her eye, trailing down the side of her face. It was small, almost invisible, but somehow, he'd noticed._

_"Are you alright?" he called out to her quietly as he stopped before passing her. She nodded silently, and his face scrunched up in confusion._

_"Oh…ok. It's just, you know, the last time I saw someone crying at the faire, it was…" he trailed off, turning in place to look around the square before pointing across to the mage swallowing fire. "Probably Magister Levarian; he actually burned his tongue, if you can believe it." She sniffled a bit and laughed slightly at the thought, and a smile found its way to his face._

_"I'm Tal—" his sentence was interrupted as Kalos' sword thunked him on the top of his head, and he spun in place, grabbing the other elf's wrist and twisting until he dropped the wooden toy sword on the ground._

_"Hey, come on!" Kalos cried out in pain as his companion reached down to take it up._

_"What did I tell you?" he admonished the boy, whose face turned up in a sour expression. They held a long silence before he spoke again. "No. You don't get this back. It's mine now, apparently."_

_"But Talian!" Kalos cried out, and Talian shook his head._

_"No. You want another one, go win another one; and this time remember what just happened before you start swinging it at me." Kalos sighed and wandered off into the crowd, and Talian turned back to face her. "Sorry," he said quietly. "My brother."_

_"Won't he tell your parents what you did?" she asked, but Talian just smiled and shook his head._

_"We're Sunvale. Not even supposed to be here. 'Faires are for fools and the idly entertained,' dad always says." He shrugged. "I guess Kalos and I are a bit of both." She laughed quietly again, and he smiled a bit deeper, extending his hand. "I'm Talian."_

_"Liadrin," she replied, shaking his hand before their conversation fell into an awkward silence. He shifted uncomfortably for a moment, then perked up._

_"So, have you played any of the games around the square yet? There are some pretty good ones, but some aren't really worth the time. I could show you, if you want."_

_"Oh…" she trailed off, looking away for a moment. "I, ah…I didn't actually bring any coin with me. I didn't think I'd get to stay very long, to be honest." Talian waved off her statement._

_"Don't worry about it," he said, holding up a small pouch that clinked when he shook it. She stammered out a small protest, but he just shook his head and reached out to take her hand, leading her to the nearest game stall. Her cheeks flushed, but she allowed herself to be led over, and subsequently educated in the finer points of faire games. Time passed quickly, and she realized with no small amount of comfort that she'd smiled and laughed more in the past hour than she had in what felt like years. After making the rounds of the games on display, they had sat on a bench together and watched Magister Levarian amaze them with intricate fiery tricks and great bursts of flame that reached high above the square. They cheered and applauded with the others as he finished with a bow, and she stopped Talian as they began to walk away._

_"I think I need to get back to the Spire, High Priest Vandellor is waiting for me." Talian chuckled._

_"Well, it's definitely the most outlandish way I've been ditched at the faire, I'll give you that." Her eyes opened wide, and she put her hands out defensively._

_"No! I mean, it's not that I…" she trailed off at his laughter._

_"Relax, I'm just teasing you." He beamed a smile back at her, and she returned it genuinely. "Hey!" he piped up suddenly, "Before you go, at least use those prize tokens you won; who knows if the faire will still be here the next time you've got a free hour or two." The two of them walked together back toward where they'd met, and she looked over the various trinkets and prizes on offer, including the pendant. Her lips turned down in the slightest of frowns, however, when she realized she hadn't enough tokens to purchase it, and reluctantly she settled on a small silver ring with the golden crest of Silvermoon adorning its bright red face._

_"A fine choice," the prize vendor called out to her as she exchanged her tokens for the piece of jewelry. "Make sure to come back and see us again!" She said a pleasant goodbye to Talian, for by now Kalos had indeed won another sword and had returned to annoy his older brother once more, and made off toward the gate leading from Falconwing out into Eversong proper. She'd walked for a few minutes, rubbing her new ring with her thumb, when she heard the voice from behind her._

_"Liadrin!" he called out, and she stopped to turn in place, a few more strands of her auburn hair once again falling in front of her eyes. She adjusted it once more and smiled in surprise as Talian closed on her. He had been jogging, and slowed to a stop in front of her completely out of breath. "You…" he began, almost panting, "walk…really fast. You…know that?" She laughed quietly, and that familiar, warm grin came back to his face. He took his hands off his hips, where they'd sat while he was recovering, and fished around in the pocket of his leather tunic. "Close your eyes," he said, and she gave him a strange look. He gestured to her face, and she reluctantly closed them. She felt him take her hand and open it, and then the cool touch of metal on its surface. "Ok, you can look now." She opened her eyes, and saw the pendant laying in the palm of her hand. Her eyes flew to his immediately._

_"You…you didn't have to…" He waved her away once more._

_"It's nothing, really. Just…saw you were really eyeing it, and…well…I mean I don't need a sword of my own. If I want one, I'll just take Kalos', right?" He smiled at her again, and tears welled up in her eyes before she could stop them flowing. He was still smiling across at her when she took two quick steps toward him and placed the smallest of kisses on his cheek. The smile evaporated then, replaced by a look of pure shock, and she laughed once again at his expression._

_"Thank you, Talian," she said quietly, holding his gaze._

_"Ah…" he stammered, "y-yea, of course! Um…any…any time." She smiled at him, then turned without a word to follow the road back toward Silvermoon, looking down at the beautiful pendant as she walked. She turned back once, and saw Talian still standing dumbstruck, a hand placed gingerly on the side of his face. She giggled to herself, and walked a little faster._

Liadrin ran her thumb over the pendant, her eyes sliding from its surface to rest on the nearby wall. Her smile deepened for a long moment, lost in the many more times they'd interacted over the years, and a great swell of pride in him surged up within her chest. Pride, and…something else, she realized with a start. She shook her head to disperse the memories, placing the pendant back in her end table and closing the drawer before laying back on her bed and staring up at the ceiling.

She worried about the Scourge in the south, about her knights recovering from their addiction in the very halls that surrounded her chambers, about the surely legions of forces Arthas had awaiting them in Northrend. And, try as she might to keep the thought from her mind, she worried about Talian.


	8. Chapter 7

**~ 7 ~**

The ship crested a wave on the open seas, jetting a spray up against the side of its hull. The water shimmered in the daylight, seemingly comprised of a million diamonds that scattered across the open sky. By the time it reached the deck of the ship, it had dissipated into a fine mist that brushed against Vaelyth's closed eyelids. She breathed deeply, taking in the scent of the sea, and her mouth turned up in a smile as she heard the loud yawn behind her. She opened her eyes, turning to regard a lightly-disheveled Avrena, who crossed the deck with a small grimace on her face.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," she called out to the draenei as she stepped up to the thick railing beside Vaelyth, folding her arms atop it and resting her forehead against them while she stared down at the deck below through half-lidded eyes.

"I don't think I'm  _quite_  there yet, Vae," she replied, her voice groggy and sullen, and Vaelyth laughed lightly, rubbing her hand up and down the suffering draenei's back and receiving an appreciative groan of comfort in response. Vaelyth turned to look back out over the sea as she continued.

"I think you're gravely under-appreciating the hangover," she said with a smile, and Avrena turned her head towards her, one glowing eye opening to regard her, and then immediately closing a bit in the harsh daylight.

"What exactly is there to appreciate about this?"

Vaelyth chuckled. "It's basically free license to be cranky and irritable, no justification necessary!"

"And I need a reason, all of a sudden?" the draenei shot back. Vaelyth shrugged.

"I suppose not, but when I'm trying to haggle the price of a relic with a pirate captain, I'd much rather have 'I'm hungover' as an excuse for my carelessness of tongue than 'You and your crew smell like a week-old hog's carcass and I'd like to be rid of you as soon as possible'." She smiled down at Avrena warmly. "Tends to make transactions a bit smoother." The draenei chuckled beneath her soothing hand, and Vaelyth's attention was caught by a deckhand who whistled at the pair of them as he passed carrying a load of linen to maintain the sails. Vaelyth shot him a wink and giggled. "Like what you see, sailor?"

The man grinned as he slowed his pace while moving past them. "Never seen a finer pair in all my days, that's for sure."

"Well, I'd say that was  _just_  ambiguous enough to be flirtatious, wouldn't you, Avvy?" Avrena, startled by the conversation, stood back up to her full height and turned to face the man.

"Dangerously so," she replied, her eyes narrowed in irritation.

"Oh, I mean no harm lass," the man said with a winning smile as he came to a full stop. "Just figured as ye'd like to—"

"To what?" she cut him off, and his face paled. "To be whistled at and treated as if we're little more than decoration on this driftwood abomination of a vessel that—" she trailed off, meeting Vaelyth's eyes when she squeezed her shoulder. She stared into them for a moment, then sighed, placing a hand to her head and looking back at the man, who now carried the countenance of one about to be impaled on a spike. "I'm sorry, I'm…" she glanced back to Vaelyth, who gave her a nod of encouragement, then sighed again. "I'm hungover."

The man instantly relaxed, the winning smile sliding back into place. He took a few steps over toward the entrance below decks and set down the linen pile on the deck. "Oh that's all right as rain, it is. Hey, we've all been there before, aven't we?" He chuckled, and Vaelyth smiled over to him with an agreeing shrug. "Tell ye what, let ol' Harlan head below decks to the crew's quarters, and fetch ye some of the brew what Berec cooks up for us every morning, eh?"

Avrena's mouth turned up in confusion. "What…what exactly is it?" she asked hesitantly, and Harlan let out a loud laugh that made her wince in pain.

"Oh, we don't know, lass. Berec'd never say, and we don't care to ask. But I'll tell ye honest, one cup of it and you'll be back on yer legs faster'n a sea dog out a missus' bedroom window. I'd stake all me takings on it, I would." Vaelyth laughed at the man's imagery, and nudged Avrena slightly in the ribs before she gave in, nodding in acquiescence. Harlan rushed for the entryway, and when he was out of sight, Avrena rounded on Vaelyth.

"What in the Light's name was that?" she demanded, causing a surprised Vaelyth to take an unconscious step back.

"What?"

"You know what," she shot back, anger lending heat to her clipped and accented voice. "You goaded him right into what he said. And it's not the first time you've done it since we've been on board." She looked away, out over the sea, and her voice fell quieter. "Why do you do that, Vae?" Hesitantly, Vaelyth took a step closer to her, putting a hand on her back that was not refused, and let a silence hang between them for a moment before she replied.

"When I was still just starting out, when Rhaga and I had just arrived in the Bay, we were looking for a job, any job, to prove we could complete contracts, to prove we were the real deal." Avrena turned her head to look at her, and for a moment Vaelyth simply admired her appearance; eyes half-open in her morning haze, her hair pulled back into a simple purple ponytail, the way her gently curved horns swept back away from her temples and out behind her. She smiled unconsciously, then shook the admiration from her head and continued the story after clearing her throat. "We…took a job to steal a large gemstone held by a family of suspected necromancers. The gem was apparently a big part of whatever rituals they performed, and the estate was well-guarded at all hours of the day. Infiltration wasn't an option, deception even less so."

"But you still fulfilled the contract," the draenei woman whispered. It wasn't a question, and Vaelyth's smile deepened with the faith Avrena clearly held in her abilities. She nodded.

"I did. Rhaga had fallen ill days before we were to set out for the estate, and he needed to rest. It was the first contract that I truly handled on my own. The guards all knew the servants by name and appearance, the family was meticulous in the planning of their security, but it was one of the easiest jobs of my life."

"How did you manage it?" she asked, now fully facing the elf and genuinely intrigued.

"I spent all my time at the local tavern," Vaelyth replied with a grin, and waited for the look of confusion to fully settle on Avrena's face before continuing. "All it took was a few winks, a few laughs that were a bit too loud, and a bit of conversation that would otherwise have never been paid to a lowly cleaning servant, to convince him to simply take it for me. Three days and nights I spent in that town, and on the third he walked into the family's manor, performed his daily tasks, and walked right out with the gem hidden in a stack of linens headed to the nearby river for a wash. I met him there, paid him enough to disappear, and made it back to the Bay before Rhaga had even had a moment to worry about me."

Avrena laughed quietly, shaking her head, and Vaelyth laughed along with her. The woman had a grace, a charm, that was simply infectious, and she loved it. Once Avrena had regained herself, she shook her head in confusion. "That's…a wonderful story, Vae, but I don't underst—"

"You catch more flies with honey than vinegar," Vaelyth cut her off with a whisper, holding her gaze for a long moment afterwards. "I can't tell you how many of my jobs have come down to getting the right information from the right person, and that person is usually someone your target would never expect; because it's usually someone your target doesn't even think about in their daily life." She took a step closer to Avrena, placing her hands on the outsides of her shoulders and squeezing them gently. "These people…they're not refined nobles or haughty lords; they have simple tastes, and more often than not they just want someone to notice them. You pay them in attention, and they pay you back tenfold with information that can make a difficult job a stroll beside the river. You never know who will have the right piece of information you're looking for, so you cast as wide a net as possible."

Avrena nodded in understanding, but her eyes wandered out over the sea, and Vaelyth's face turned up in confusion. "What's on your mind?" she asked quietly, prompting the other woman to return her eyes to her friend's.

"Your choice of words," she replied quietly after a moment. "You said you pay them in 'attention'. What…I mean…have you ever…" she trailed off and shook her head in frustration, looking back out over the water as the ship glided gracefully across the seas. Vaelyth let her come to it on her own, abstractly brushing the fronts of her shoulders with her thumbs as the other woman thought. After a moment, Avrena met her eyes again. "Have you ever paid them with more than that?" she asked hesitantly, and Vaelyth's mind raced in reaction to the unspoken question. She cleared her throat, looked around the deck at the crew that milled about performing their routine tasks, then looked back to Avrena's concerned eyes.

"I've…done some things I know Rhaga wouldn't have been happy to hear about, but…nothing like what you're thinking, I'm pretty sure." She smiled to soften the seriousness of the conversation, and Avrena seemed all too willing to take the out, smiling back at her and nodding.

"More flies with honey," Avrena repeated quietly aloud, and Vaelyth gave her shoulders one last squeeze before dropping her hands and turning her head to look at Harlan, who had returned from below deck. He held a cup full of dark black liquid carefully in his hands as he crossed the deck once more to meet them. Even in the warmth of day, steam rolled in lapping waves off its surface, and Avrena nodded her thanks as she took it from him. Harlan winked at her, for which he received a warm smile in response, before picking up the linens and returning to his task, whistling as he climbed the stairs and moved toward the main mast.

Avrena muttered a small incantation to chill the mug in her hands, and when the liquid had cooled to the point of being palatable, she took a hesitant sip, her eyes immediately springing open at the taste. It was earthy, yet sweet, with hints of nuts and flavors that reminded her of certain confections she'd only rarely enjoyed, during holidays or special celebrations. The taste burst across her tongue, and the still-retained warmth of the liquid slid down the back of her throat and into her stomach, forming a warm pit within her that caused the most contented of sighs to escape her lips.

"Well damn," whispered Vaelyth with a chuckle beside her, "if I'd have known it were  _that_  good, I'd have asked Harlan to bring me a cup as well." Avrena opened her eyes, which had closed of their own accord in the tasting of the drink, and glanced over at her friend with a half-smile on her face. Vaelyth reached over to take the cup and try for herself, and Avrena pulled it further out of her reach. Vaelyth's confused eyes met her own, and she held her gaze for a moment before speaking.

"Avvy?" she asked, and the night elf grinned from ear to ear.

"Why not? I think it's adorable. Suits you perfectly, as far as nicknames go."

Over the rim of the cup, Avrena's eyes opened a bit wider, while her brows seemed to narrow, giving her a sinister look. "Oh, so I'm adorable now, am I?" Vaelyth felt heat rush to her cheeks, and she folded her arms across her chest, her mind clamoring for a witty response.

"I just meant that…look, I thought it was…you know, you should be…" Her efforts evaporated as Avrena laughed aloud, offering the cup across to her with a sympathetic smile.

"By the Light, Vae, take a drink before you trip over your own tongue." Vaelyth's eyes narrowed at being played with, and she practically snatched the cup out of the woman's hands before taking a sip, her own eyes closing as well at the taste.

"Oh…" she whispered, "that's…incredible." She opened her eyes to find Avrena smiling across to her. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words escaped her as Harlan cried out from high above, atop the mast.

"Sails on the horizon, cap'n! Look to be no allies of ours!"

Vaelyth brought her eyes back to the deck, rushing past Avrena and up the stairs behind her. She sprinted to the railing, the cup in her hand sloshing its contents onto the deck below as she halted to look out at the ship that followed them. It's two large sails were decorated in a simple pattern of black and red stripes, and Vaelyth's eyes narrowed as Avrena reached her at the railing. "Blackwater," she whispered. "Pirates."

Beside her, Avrena's face belied the terror inside her. A long moment of silence fell between them as they both stared out at the quickly-approaching ship, broken only by the draenei's eventual whisper.

"It sounds like we may need vinegar, after all."

* * *

_"Ow," he replied tersely. His voice was flat, and though his eyes held Kalos' fully, they held no hint of annoyance or anger within. Talian hadn't flinched, and didn't move now to pull his arm away from where it lay on the table under the faded and flickering glow emanating from Kalos' outstretched hands, but his brother shook his head in frustration nevertheless._

_"Sun's grace, Talian, I…" he trailed off, shaking his head once more, and Talian shrugged, the gesture sending a sharp pain down the marred skin of his back beneath the light shirt he wore. He did grimace at that, and hissed quietly as his eyes closed in agony. "I'm sorry, for all of this," Kalos whispered across the table to him. Talian shook his head._

_"You don't need to be; I know you haven't been working on healing. I thought it was worth a shot, was all." His brother nodded absently, and a silence fell between them. The serving man came by once more, and Kalos ordered them another round of drinks. Talian attempted to reach for the coin purse at his belt, but Kalos had already paid the man before he could reach it, and he departed with a sympathetic smile. Talian snorted. "You think he's heard?" Kalos trailed after the man with his eyes._

_"I imagine the whole of Quel'Thalas has heard, by now," he replied with no small amount of irritation staining his voice. "Father never keeps quiet about martial punishments within the ranks, and this was no ordinary one."_

_"Oh, well when you say it like that, it makes it not sound as bad," Talian shot back with a weak grin. Kalos chuckled a bit despite himself, then shook his head as he looked back to his brother._

_"You could have told him. By the Sunwell, you_ should _have told him." His eyes held true concern, now, and Talian met his gaze sternly._

_"No. That wasn't an option, and I wouldn't have taken it if it were. This was bound to happen sooner or later, with the things we've been doing. Better that it happened to only one of us, and not both." Kalos opened his mouth to protest, but Talian continued talking over him. "I'm your brother, Kalos. With who we are, with what you and I believe…I have to look out for you."_

_"Maybe," Kalos replied quietly, his eyes sliding over his brother's shoulders to view the entryway to the small tavern. "But that burden goes both ways." He nodded to a figure behind Talian, who attempted to turn and look, the flaring pain stopping him cold in his tracks, and his eyes slamming shut against it. "Thank you for coming so quickly," his brother whispered to the newcomer, and from the corner of his eye he could see him reach out and embrace them. Once they'd released each other, Kalos leaned down to him. "I'm going to ride for Fairbreeze, I should be back in a few days' time. If you're going to get yourself flogged for our work, I'm going to make damn sure the work gets done." Talian turned his head enough to meet his brother's eyes, and nodded to him._

_"Be safe; they'll be watching more carefully, now." Kalos looked out through the window that hung in the wall against where their table sat, as if searching for hidden foes, then looked back to Talian._

_"I will. Meet me at the Mill, in four days?" Talian nodded his agreement, and Kalos placed a hand lightly on his shoulder. "Alright, I'll see you then." He squeezed lightly, then removed his hand, quietly thanking the newcomer again before slipping past her and out the back door of the tavern, to the stables beyond. Talian closed his eyes as the throbbing pain continued, and his hand shook as he raised the cup to his lips and drank deeply, a bit of his willpower to control the pain slipping now that his little brother was no longer in sight of him. He didn't ask who stood just out of his sight, he didn't need to, and when he felt the warmth of her hand taking his own, a shiver ran through him. His eyes still closed, he heard her circle around the table to sit opposite him, and almost immediately felt the ice-cold touch of her healing spread across the darkly-bruised lesions where his wrists had been bound. She was quiet as she worked, but he could almost feel her pulling, begging him to say anything. He had expected that, but hadn't expected to see the silent tears that streamed down her cheeks when he opened his eyes._

_"Liadrin…" he whispered across to her, his voice trailing off in surprise at her sorrow. She didn't meet his gaze, instead staring intently at the work she performed, though he knew it for a fact that it wasn't necessary. The long sleeves of her white robes were pushed up past her elbows, and he could not fail to notice the beauty of her sun-kissed skin as her hands performed their task._

_"He's a monster," she whispered harshly, still refusing to look him in the eye. Talian looked out the window in thought._

_"He's trying to prove to his men that no one is above punishment. He's trying to inspire loyalty, the only way he knows how."_

_"Loyalty?!" she balked. He looked back at her, his heart warming at the full sight of her face, even angered as it was. He gently pulled his arm away from her hands and reached out to her, brushing the tears off her cheek. Faster than he could have imagined, she grabbed his arm below the wrist and shoved it back at him, holding it just before his own face. "Tell me, does_ that _make you more, or less, inclined to want to follow your father's orders?"_

_"Less," he ceded, "but I'm not exactly the normal member of House Sunvale, either. The others will see it as confirmation of his commitment to Sunvale's independent nature." Liadrin shook her head, but didn't argue further, instead gently pulling his hand back to her and continuing to work on his injuries. A long moment passed between them, his eyelids feeling heavier with each new wave of healing she poured into his wrists. When she finally moved to stand, he examined them to see only the faintest trace that he'd ever been injured at all. He twisted his hands, flexing them and finding no pain._

_"Come on," she said quietly, reaching out a hand for him to take. He did so, and gritted his teeth in pain as he stood, his back leaving a faint blood stain on the chairback from where it had seeped through his shirt. Liadrin glared at the spot for a long moment before draping his arm over her shoulders and helping him across the room._

_"You know…I did walk in here on my own," he whispered to her. She shot him a glare in response._

_"Well you're not walking out that way." She maneuvered him around the room and out the same door Kalos had used, leading him down past the stables to the small river that ran behind the tavern. "Alright, now for the real work." She gestured to his shirt, and he turned away from her, pulling it up and over his head with a series of winces and quiet groans. Her eyes widened when she saw the weeping red latticework of cuts and gashes that had been inflicted upon his flesh, and she swore lightly under her breath. Talian took one look at the stained shirt and tossed it to the ground, where it fell into a crumpled heap. He leaned forward against a nearby tree, bracing himself against it with both arms, and she set to work closing his wounds and stopping the bleeding. "What did he discover you doing?" she whispered to him as she worked._

_"Fairbreeze has been containing the Scar as best they can, but their healers are weary and they've run out of supplies. Kalos sug—ah!" he cried out as she began to heal the largest gash that split downwards and diagonally across his spine, and before he knew what had happened she'd placed a hand on his shoulder._

_"Shhh," she whispered to him soothingly, and he leaned forward to put his forehead against the trunk of the tree. He closed his eyes and concentrated on telling her what she'd asked for._

_"Kalos suggested we fake a supply request from one of the contingents on the coast-line, claim there had been a problem with sea serpent bites taken by the men patrolling the seafront, and pass the medical supplies off to Fairbreeze. Our father signs dozens of requests a day, how would he remember if he'd approved it or not?" There was a brief pause from behind him, and then she spoke up, as if she'd been lost in thought._

_"So what happened?"_

_"Kalos got the supply order filled at the quartermaster and took off with it, but when our father reviewed the reports from that day, he knew the signature had been forged. He assumed it had been me, and I imagine you can infer the rest."_

_"Why would you forge his name if you weren't certain you could get it past him?" She asked, incredulous at his actions._

_"I didn't," he replied quietly, turning his head to meet her gaze with his closest eye. She stared back at him for a long moment before unconsciously covering her mouth with a hand._

_"Kalos…" she whispered._

_"Yes."_

_"And your father thought…"_

_"Yes."_

_"And you just…"_

_"Of course, I did," he replied softly. He could see tears welling again in the corners of her eyes, and it broke his heart. He pushed off the tree, turning to her and stepping closer. He put his hands on her arms, and looked into her eyes with all the compassion he could muster. "I'm sorry, you shouldn't have to be dealing with this. Kalos shouldn't have asked you here."_

_"No," she replied immediately, with a small shake of her head. "I want to be here. I care about you two." He smiled down at her in reply, wishing he could tell her just how much he cared for only her. She looked away for a moment, down toward the river, and then stepped away from him to walk to its banks. After a moment, he followed, and saw her kneeling to pick a few of the flowers that bloomed just beside the current. They were petaled blossoms, orange with a deep red in the center. She gathered a handful and stood once more._

_"My mother called them River's Breath," she said quietly as he approached her. Her back was still to him, and she stood perfectly still, looking down at the small bouquet she held. Talian stepped up beside her wordlessly, unsure of what to say. Liadrin didn't speak of her mother often, and he knew better than to pry, so he remained silent, looking at the beautiful flowers she held. "Phoenix Blossom, they're actually called, but I was always partial to her name."_

_"They're beautiful," he whispered across to her, and she turned her head to smile at him._

_"And useful," she replied, nodding her head back up the hill. He took her meaning, and turned to walk with her. She reached down to the small pouch at her waist, producing the smallest mortar and pestle he'd ever seen, then took the petals from all but one of the flowers and began to grind them together. Water stored within them began to seep out and turn the concoction into a thin orange paste, and she gestured for him to lean against the tree once again. "This is going to burn," she said quietly, and he nodded, steeling himself for it._

_She traced her fingers slowly along his back, and it felt as though fire had erupted on his skin. The painful heat crept into every cut and gash, every opening in the surface of his skin, and seemed to sear him from the inside out. The process went on for agonizing minutes, until eventually he felt her step away, reaching down to take his discarded shit and tear it into long strips. He helped her do so, and together they wrapped his torso in a binding that held the blisteringly painful creation tight against his back._

_She affixed the last strip in place and stopped, her hands on his chest. She looked into his eyes, and every instinct within him told him to kiss her. He wanted to, desperately, but he settled on a warm smile instead. His situation was dire, his name and house were toxic, and for all her willingness to help him and Kalos, he would keep that poison from afflicting her. If he did nothing else, he would keep any extra pain from her life; even at his own expense. The thought saddened him, and she seemed to read it in his eyes, her own face dropping slightly as the afternoon breeze blew in across the river, overwhelming him with her perfumed scent and only making his decision more difficult to endure._

_After a moment, she patted her hands on his chest in confirmation that he'd been all patched up, then leaned down to pick up the Phoenix Blossom she hadn't needed to use. She handed it to him with a smile, and he took it from her._

_"To remember the healer who so generously patched you up in your time of need," she said with a grin, and he laughed lightly, the gesture making his back sting even more._

_"I'm sure I'll never forget," he replied, as they began to walk back toward the tavern._

Adarien neighed lightly as he followed the path southward, and Talian's eyes were pulled away from the small tavern just off the side of the road, his mind drawn from the memory and pulled back into the present. The tavern sat closed now, its windows dark and unused for years, and he shook his head in disappointment as his steed pressed onward. They passed through the autumnal forests of Eversong, and eventually came to the banks of the Elrendar. Beyond its swiftly-coursing waters, he could see the almost-immediate change in the landscape. The once-lush greenery of the woods had fallen dead and lifeless, the ground corrupted by the passage of the Scourge who had marched through here long ago, and the taint of those that remained even now.

As they began to cross the wooden bridge that would lead him into southern Quel'Thalas, the familiar sound of clashing steel reached his ears, and he kicked Adarien into motion. The horse rocketed across the bridge, and Talian led him eastward, over a nearby rise. As they crested the hill, his eyes widened at the sight before him. At the bottom, in a small valley in the terrain, a group of six ghoulish scourge forces surrounded a lone Forsaken priest. The bodies of her compatriots lay strewn about the battlefield, and though she swung her staff with a practiced viciousness and called down holy fire to sear her enemies, they steadily advanced, encircling her on all sides. He pushed Adarien as fast as he could go and pulled the long blade from its scabbard at his side.

As the charger reached the group of Scourge, he swung with all his strength, splitting one of them from navel to chin. It crumpled into a heap of rotting parts, and he swung down from Adarien's saddle, rushing across to his only ally in the field and slamming his shield into the ghoul that had stood poised to strike her from behind. His sword flashed, his shield deflected strikes meant to tear them both apart, and after a long struggle the ghouls lay in broken piles at their feet. Sweat beaded on his brow, and he breathed heavily, ensuring that none of their fallen foes stirred before turning to meet the woman for whom he'd intervened. With what seemed like the remaining amount of her effort, she slammed her staff into the ground, digging it deep enough to stand on its own while she adjusted the gloves on her skeletal hands and raised her eyes to look at him. A slight grin twisted up on her face, and her voice was a coarse rasp when she spoke.

"I'd likely be breathing heavily myself after that little encounter, except, well," she gestured to herself, and Talian let out a small laugh in between heavy breaths. She extended a gloved hand to him, and he shook it. "Mireva Ebongale, high priestess in service to Her Highness, the Banshee Queen, Sylvanas Windrunner." He nodded in acknowledgment.

"Lord Talian Sunvale, Master of the Blood Knight order of Silvermoon, and an ally to the Forsaken."

"Yes, it would seem anything without a plague-addled brain is an ally in these lands," she replied, pulling her staff out of the ground and walking over to examine one of her fallen comrades. She shook her head, pointing down to him as she turned to look back at Talian. "Two weeks, this one had been here. You should have seen how excited he was to be out in the field, fighting for the Dark Lady against the Scourge. It's not a common emotion for us, and he was in rare form." She knelt down, taking an insignia from his chest, before doing the same for the five other fallen members of her group. "She'll want to know they've fallen; she always wants to know; who and where and how..." Mireva paused for a moment, staring down at the handful of insignia before looking up to him once again. Her glowing yellow eyes peered out from behind long blue-green hair, brittle with age, undeath, and mistreatment, that hung loosely down to her shoulders. "And were it not for you, she'd not have heard from any of us." He bowed his head to her in thanks.

"I'm not one to stand idly by while allies are overrun, miss Ebongale." Another smile seemed to worm its way onto her face, and she nodded.

"Then have I got a mission for you. I assume you're familiar with Suncrown Village?" He perked up at the mention of the place.

"Of course, it's the reason I was sent here. A group of Blood Knight recruits went missing there, and Lady Liadrin has sent me to discover their situation."

"Yes, they were with us," she replied. "Black tabards, light-infused weapons, overconfidence? I remember them." She gestured around her at the fallen Forsaken. "We were the rear guard for the force that assaulted Suncrown, your people and mine together. When the battle became dire, we were sent back to Tranquillien to report and gather a team for a retaliatory strike. As we left...we saw them being taken by the nerubians there."

"Taken?" he asked, Bloodwrath's words haunting through his mind. Mireva nodded in reply.

"Yes, into the buildings, as captives."

"Then we don't have long," he replied, resolve hardening his voice as he stepped to move past her. Her face betrayed the surprise inside her mind, and she took a few quick paces to catch up to him.

"Wait, we have to go to Tranquillien! High Executor Mavren will want to know what's happened, and we can retrieve reinforcements." Talian took Adarien's reins and swung up into the saddle before reaching down a hand to Mireva. She stared at it, then looked further away, toward the main road that led to Tranquillien.

"By the time we get back with more forces, those they've taken will be long dead; yours and mine alike," he called down to her. "You need to rescue those soldiers now, Mireva, and I  _am_ your reinforcement."

Her eyes came up to meet his for a long moment, and at last she reached out, taking his hand and allowing herself to be pulled up behind him on the horse. Talian kicked Adarien onward, and the charger raced off toward the tall spires in the distance.

* * *

Liadrin sat calmly atop Redemption as the charger strode at the head of the caravan she led through the mountain pass. As their party traveled ever-eastward toward Sunvale Enclave, she wondered what exactly they would find when they arrived. In her youth, Clan Sunvale's relations with the Spire had been icy at best, and borderline insubordinate at worst; Caresian Sunvale had never wished to part with a single thing that could have strengthened his house, even if it could have aided ten others. He had surrounded himself with sycophants and loyalists, and held fast in his mountain fortress against all suggestions from the Spire that he assist in the defense of others. Her hands tightened around the reins they held when she remembered the other things the late lord of House Sunvale had been willing to do to ensure his unchallenged rule, the leather of the straps digging deeply into the palms of her gauntlets.

"My Lady?" the knight to her left asked quietly, startling her out of her incendiary memories. She shook her head slightly, looking across to him, but her eyes must have still held some of their intensity, for his face betrayed the nervousness behind his eyes. "Ah, the scouts say we're approaching the entrance to the Enclave now, another few minutes at most."

"And their defenses?" she replied, forcing herself to sound cordial. It was a blunt attempt, but it seemed to work, as the man managed a smile before replying.

"None to speak of, my Lady. The scouts encountered a small force of ten or so elves with basic pikes and halberds, but when our men announced themselves, they were told to relay that the Enclave stands open and welcoming to any emissary from the Spire."

Liadrin nodded in response, her forced smile now much more genuine as she reminded herself for the third time in as many days that Talian led the house now. Were she not at the head of a company of soldiers, should could have forgiven herself for laughing at the thought. The adventurous, kind-hearted elf she had known for so many years replacing a man like his father was almost comic in its irony. Try as she might, and she had for many years, she could not understand how in the Light's name someone like Caresian could have been a part of the man that was Talian Sunvale. The two could not be more different, and just as both previous times she'd had to remind herself of House Sunvale's newly-found patriotism, she relaxed her mind, committing herself to approaching this recovering house as she would a brand new one, for in truth that was what it had become.

The minutes passed quickly, and she soon found herself rounding a bend in the mountain pass and being presented with the tall and intricately-worked Dawngate. It was, she had been told, the only architectural structure in the Enclave to have been built solely to impress those who would pass beneath it. The pale white pillars of stone used in its creation reached upwards into the sky before being joined together by stonework vines that entwined and reached to bridge the gap between them. The two large metal halves of the main gate stood open to them, and in front of the handful of soldiers that manned them stood an elven woman in soft blue robes. Her pale skin seemed to glow in the light of day, and her blazing red hair sat gathered behind her in a loose ponytail. She smiled as Liadrin rounded the bend in the path, and took a few steps forward to meet her as she brought Redemption to a halt and dismounted. Now on the ground, she saw the woman stood at a similar height to herself, and she held her eyes for a moment before the woman inclined her head in a sign of respect.

"Lady Liadrin, it is an incredible honor to receive you in our home. Please know that your company and any emissaries of the Spire are most welcome in Sunvale Enclave." She raised her eyes once again, and Liadrin smiled back at her.

"You're too kind," she replied with a warmth in her voice that she seldom used. "I do indeed bring word from the Spire, as well as supplies and a retinue of soldiers to safeguard the Enclave as you work to rebuild it." She paused for a moment, casting her gaze past the woman's shoulder and into the Enclave proper, where she could see dozens of elves milling about, hard at work in their individual tasks. "I admit a certain excitement to see the effects of House Sunvale's restoration." She looked back to the woman. "But where are my manners? Am I correct in assuming that Lord Talian has placed you in command of the Enclave in his absence, Lady…?"

The woman blushed visibly, stammering a bit when she replied. "Oh! Oh…ah…no, my Lady. Ah, yes, he's placed me in charge while he's away, but I'm not…" she trailed off, then closed her eyes and breathed deeply, composing herself before opening them again. "I am Irenia Sunvale, my Lady. I am no noblewoman, but I  _am_  the steward of the Enclave in Lord Talian's absence."

Liadrin smiled, glancing over her shoulder to ensure their privacy before leaning in. "Well done," she whispered to Irenia, "very formal." The woman laughed quietly to herself, her eyes beaming her gratitude to Liadrin as they leaned apart from each other, and she took another deep breath before stepping to the side of the path and gesturing to the open gates. The Sunvale soldiers barring its path followed her lead, splitting off to stand at the sides of the main road leading into the estate as Irenia spoke once more.

"Be welcome, Lady Liadrin. Just as it did in our time of deepest need, the Enclave stands open to you and yours."

Liadrin nodded her head in thanks and signaled the group to move again as she stepped aside to stand next to Irenia. She watched the ranks of soldiers move through the Dawngate, followed by the supply caravans they'd brought along with them. When after a few minutes the small force she'd brought with her passed into the Enclave, she walked with Irenia into the unfamiliar grounds. The woman seemed to sense her feelings, and whispered to her as they strode through the main quarters of the village.

"I take it you were never invited to tour the grounds by the previous lord of the house?"

Liadrin let slip a curt laugh despite herself, turning her head to meet Irenia's gaze as they walked. "I doubt I was the only one denied the privilege." Irenia smiled to her knowingly even as she shook her head.

"Caresian was a fool, in every respect. I would tell you all the ways his son is his exact opposite, but I imagine you already know the truth in those words, my Lady." Liadrin nodded as she looked upwards at the Grand Library beside which they now passed.

"I do, Irenia." She allowed her gaze to linger, and slide off of the tall building into the clear skies beyond. Her chest seemed bothered by a dull ache for which she couldn't quite place a source, and when at last she brought her eyes back to her host's, she smiled sadly at having to experience her first visit here without his input, the stories of his youth that had taken place here when they'd been apart, and the intriguing secrets about every inch of the estate which he surely must have known. "But tell me anyway; I enjoy a good story as well as the next woman." She smiled to Irenia, who returned the gesture with a gleam in her eye.

They continued their tour of the Enclave, and Liadrin was beset with a heady mixture of pride and sorrow. All around her, the newest generation of House Sunvale rushed and labored to make the grounds presentable, something worthy of the trust their new lord had placed in them. Many of them stopped in their tracks and bowed their heads to her in respect as they passed, and many more simply spared the pair of them a smile or a wave, often shifting the items they held uncomfortably to accomplish the gesture. The people were warm and welcoming to both her and the soldiers and merchants she'd brought with her, and yet all around them stood once-imposing buildings now in a state of disrepair.

Dozens of homes lined the few intersecting streets of the village, and the large majority of them sat in a disheveled manner. Little to no care seemed to have been taken by the Sunvales of old as they had rushed to meet with their Prince in the broken theaters of the Outland conflicts. The visual disparity gave the Enclave the distinct feeling of being a blossom of warmth and hope trapped within the remains of treachery and betrayal that stood all around them. She had known that the task of rebuilding House Sunvale would not be an easy one for Talian to undertake, but seeing the Enclave in person, feeling the history that pressed down on her as she walked its grounds, lent all-new weight to the task in her mind.

Irenia led her through the many buildings as the troops she'd brought discussed defense plans with the Sunvale Militia, as they called themselves, and her suppliers set up distribution points to help the locals restock. Eventually, their tour led into the main hall, and a discussion of all the changes they had made in light of Lord Talian's return. She smiled inwardly whenever the title was used, wondering how much he hated to hear it, and she was lost in one such thought when she noticed Irenia had stopped walking. She looked to the woman, who smiled at her.

"Apologies, I must have been speaking too quietly. I said, these are the lord's chambers, Lady Liadrin." She glanced into the spacious room that the house called Talian's and felt a heat rise to her cheeks. She cleared her throat.

"Should we be here?" she asked quietly. Irenia laughed lightly in response.

"We were specifically instructed to leave every door unlocked to emissaries of the Spire, my Lady. The new lord of House Sunvale is adamant that we display our loyalty to the Spire in light of…recent events." Liadrin nodded solemnly.

"I understand, Irenia." The woman bowed her head slightly in acquiescence, just as a young elven man, only just past adolescence, rounded the far corner. Seeing Irenia, he perked up, and crossed over to them, stopping only to bow his head to her in respect before speaking.

"Irenia, the arcanists have returned from the Grand Library, and request your guidance on how best to assist the merchants and soldiers who are planning to remain here once Lady Liadrin departs." Irenia turned to Liadrin before speaking.

"I'm afraid I must see to them, my Lady, but as I said, the grounds are open to you. Please come find me if you have any concerns."

"By all means," Liadrin replied with a smile, and the pair of them departed, leaving her alone in the hall. She turned after a moment and stared into the entryway of the lord's chambers, trying with great difficulty to decide whether or not she truly wanted to enter. Eventually, her curiosity won out, and she crossed the threshold gingerly, casting her eyes around the room. It was regal yet simple, dark woods and solid colors conveying a sense of determination in the room's atmosphere. She wandered the room's edges, trailing her fingers along the ornately-carved wardrobe and admiring the stonework domed ceiling that made the room truly feel like a chamber. Her eyes were on their way back down from the ceiling when they caught something entirely unexpected, and her breath hitched in her throat with a soft gasp.

Staring at it in disbelief, as if it could not truly exist, she slowly crossed the room to stand before the mantle of the hearth. Atop its stone surface sat a small, thin vase; and within it, a single Phoenix Blossom. Its orange petals and deep red center looked the picture of a morning sunrise, and she wondered what magical spell kept it in such a state.  _Never mind that,_  her mind raced at her,  _why is it here? Why does he even have it?_

"Ah," the gravelly voice called out from behind her. She turned in place to see an older elf step into the room across from her. "I see you've found the great mystery of our house." He smiled as he spoke, and she returned the gesture.

"Mystery?" she asked. The elf nodded.

"Once a week, every week, Lord Talian treks to the river that runs through the hills that form the southern reaches of the Enclave's territory. He goes alone, and unannounced, and always returns with just one such flower, which he promptly places there, on the mantle." He pointed to it with his finger. "Although, with his recent absences, I've taken to performing the task  _for_  him, though I've truly no idea why it's done." He smiled again, and Liadrin laughed lightly, her eyes moving back to the flower and growing a bit wetter with tears that she quickly cast away. "Everyone has a theory," the elf continued, "though something tells me the truth is far simpler than any of us believe." Liadrin turned her head back to him and met his gaze, something within its depths reaching into her and causing her heart to stir. "Care to take a guess, my Lady?" he asked quietly. "If you like, I could even add you to the wagering pool we have going around the Enclave." Liadrin simply shook her head. Try as she might, she could not dispel the damned smile from her face.

"I wouldn't even know where to begin," she replied, and the old elf chuckled to himself before letting her know that the Captain of her regiment had been asking after her. He turned to lead her back out of the building, and she spared one last backwards glance for the single flower on the mantle, her heart practically leaping into her throat at the sight of it, despite her best efforts to keep it in place.


	9. Chapter 8

**~ 8 ~**

_"You cannot sympathize with your target," Rhaga whispered to her as they knelt in the small copse of shrubs and tall grass. He had told her to be prepared when she arrived this morning, and she had wondered what for. That wonder was gone now, confirmed by the small orc encampment before them that he'd discovered while walking the forests. He had told her it would prove a worthy challenge for her, and she was all too happy to exact some revenge on the monsters._

_"No chance of that," she all but growled to him in response, her glowing white eyes never moving from the armored orcs milling about the small clearing._

_"Careful, Sparrow, for vengeance is just as powerful an emotion as sympathy, in its own way." He paused, waiting for her to shake out of her silent rage and look over to him. "You cannot feel for the actions you take, or you may hesitate. Hesitation is death, when you walk the path that we do."_

_"The Shroud…" she whispered, now understanding why he'd chosen this place, why he'd brought her here. The old orc beside her nodded, a small smile of approval coming to his face._

_"Envelop yourself in it, just as I taught you. Use it to make yourself a weapon, to make yourself emotionless. But always remember the way back, Sparrow. Those who lose themselves to the Shroud become something far more terrifying than any orc with a blade." She looked back to the camp, nodding in thought before closing her eyes and centering herself._

_She saw the empty stonework chamber, just as she always did, and the black orb seemingly made of some dark and foreboding liquid quietly roiling where it hung suspended in the center of the room. She had asked Rhaga once why the scene came to her as it did, and he had only been able to tell her that the place where the Shroud lay hidden was different for everyone, something buried deep within her memory, or perhaps even a memory that had belonged to one of her ancestors, passed down to her over generations._

_In her mind's eye, she stepped toward the black liquid orb, reaching out her hand steadily. Fear gripped her heart as it always did, but she pushed it aside. 'Hesitation is death,' she reminded herself, as her fingers brushed against its inky black surface. The orb reacted immediately, racing out to flow along her arm and back toward her. The orb shrank as its contents rushed forth to cover every surface of her body, eventually dissolving entirely and leaving the chamber empty. She felt the cold, the darkness, seep into her, and suppressed the urge to scream as her emotional mind was harshly snuffed out like a candle. A long, dark moment passed, and she opened her eyes, staring out into the clearing beyond at the few orcs that meandered within it. No hatred, no burning desire for vengeance welled within her chest. She felt nothing for them. "I'm ready," she whispered, her voice dull and hollow as she drew her blades with a quiet rasping sound._

_"Yes," he whispered beside her, "you are."_

The pirate roared as his gleaming, jagged-edged blade came screaming in for Vaelyth's head. She stepped deftly to the side, slipping her dagger into its path and applying force, redirecting his momentum to embed the sword into the wooden railing behind her. He yanked at it to no avail, and glared across at her. She flexed her grip around the dagger in her hand, staring him down with unfeeling eyes before he leaped for her, his hands outstretched and searching for her neck. She took a quick step back, the blade in her hand flashing forward and slashing. A thin trail of bright red arced out across the afternoon sky, and he collapsed to the deck, clutching at the gash across his throat as blood poured from around his clenched hands. She placed a boot on his shoulder, shoving forcefully with her leg and sending him tumbling across the deck and off the side of the ship, the tell-tale splash a moment later confirming his disposal. She turned to cast her murderous gaze across the ship, and rushed over to cross blades with another pirate who had disarmed the ship's cook of the meat cleaver he'd been using as an improvised weapon.

The pirate saw her coming, and turned from the now-defenseless cook to face the more-threatening opponent. Their blades rang together as she attacked, and he began to move steadily backwards, continuing to retreat from her assault step by step. Her face was a mask of stone, and her attacks came faster and faster, until he was unable to properly fight her, instead simply swinging his blade in an attempt to block her relentless advance. One thrust slipped through his defenses, slicing his shoulder open, and he growled in pain. A moment later, another attack bypassed his flailing blade, opening up the side of his chest. Quicker and quicker her landing hits came as he lost the energy to keep up his defense, and as he lashed out in desperation, she sliced his hand, forcing him to drop the sword as she stepped to his side and slammed her boot into the side of his knee. Bone and cartilage snapped beneath her strike, and he cried out as he fell to his other knee. She didn't lose a beat, continuing the step behind him and slamming her dagger home into the back of his neck. She ripped it free with a crimson trail as his corpse fell to the deck.

The cook let out a gasp at the sight, and her eyes slid over to him. She saw the terror in his eyes at what he'd beheld, and when she took a step closer to him, he scooted backwards on his hands, his back bumping up against an overturned sack of grain. She stopped, simply staring at him in confusion, before a voice, muffled at first as it reached her brain through the Shroud, caught her attention from within the ship's entryway to her left.

"Listen to your friend! I don't want to kill you!" Her ears perked up at Avrena's voice, and she followed it through the doorway as the cook scrambled to his feet. She took the steps down into the bowels of the ship swiftly yet silently, and when she landed on the deck below, she saw Avrena at the end of the hall, her hands held up and aglow with the light of magical incantations. An arcane barrier stood in place between her and the three pirates that inhabited the hallway. All three had blades drawn, but they were facing each other. Or rather, she noticed as she skulked closer, hiding in the shadows of large structural posts along the corridor, two of them faced Therinn.

"It doesn't make any sense," her old acquaintance growled at the other two pirates. "We're supposed to be back in the Bay by now, offloading the haul we've already taken. Why's Salthern attacking a passenger ship?"

"It's  _Captain_  Salthern, ye bilge rat!" one of the other snarled at him. "And it don't much matter why the Captain orders what he orders."

"Not much at all," his comrade agreed with a wicked grin for Avrena, whose face blanched under the leering gaze. "You gonna follow orders? Or are we gonna gut you like a suckling pig right here next to the pretty one?"

Therinn sighed in resignation, but his eyes flicked down the hall for the briefest of moments, and she knew he had seen her. The knowledge shocked her a bit, but she was absolutely certain he had. Her instincts were confirmed when he sheathed his blade, stepping away from the confrontation to stand between the pirates and the barrier Avrena had erected to separate them. "Sorry, darlin'," he called out to her, "looks like my hands are tied." He turned around to face the pirates, who had sheathed their blades and now stood with their backs to Vaelyth. Even through the Shroud, a sinister smirk found its way to her face; Therinn couldn't have set them up better for her if he'd offered them blindfolds and comfortable seating. She stalked up the hallway, perfectly in view of Therinn and Avrena. The former was a seasoned professional in this kind of work, but she hoped Avrena would be able to avoid giving her away. To her surprise, the draenei seemed to understand immediately, locking eyes with the pirates and holding their attention.

"You are despicable," she spat at them in her clipped accent. "Light damn the lot of you." The pirates chuckled, one of them reaching out with his blade and tapping the arcane barrier. It sizzled at the contact.

"Once this here delaying tactic of yours fizzles out…you'll find out first-hand just how despicable we can be." His cohort laughed, a sickly sound from the back of his throat.

"Ohhhh yes. We're gonna make yo—!" his taunt was silenced as the tip of Vaelyth's dagger protruded through the back of his mouth, blood dripping off it and down his chin. The other pirate turned in a rage, but she was already spinning low, sweeping his legs out from underneath him and rising back up to stomp harshly on his throat as he hit the deck. She reached over, pulling the dagger from her first target as he crumpled to the floor, and flung it down towards the pirate gasping for breath, the blade embedding itself in his eye and immediately ending his struggling. Therinn's eyes widened as he watched the entire exchange happen in a split-second.

"Well fuck me, Vae, that was some grizzly sh—whoa, whoa!" His hands shot up in surrender as she drew another blade, holding its tip against his throat. She stared across the flat of its surface into his eyes, which widened at the expressionless killing machine he saw. He swallowed hard, the bulge in his throat pressing a bit too hard into the razor-sharp tip of the blade, a thin trickle of blood winding its way down his neck in response.

"Vae…" Avrena whispered across to her as the barrier fell away with a shimmer. She heard the voice, she knew its source, and inside the Shroud she warred with herself, just barely able to keep her hand from shoving forward and killing yet another pirate. Her mind raced to press back against the murderous self she'd created with Rhaga's teachings of the Shroud, and Avrena slowly approached her. "Vae…easy…" The draenei reached out a trembling hand, placing it on her shoulder. The contact distracted her assassin's mind long enough for her to regain control, and she shoved it back forcefully into the recesses of her head, pulling away the dagger. She had hardly made a sound when killing the pirates, but now she gasped for breaths of air, leaning over to put her hands on her knees as she recovered from the mental battle. "There you go," Avrena whispered to her. "It's alright, we are all fine." After a moment, Vaelyth regained her composure, raising her head and narrowing her eyes at Therinn, who lowered his arms.

"Explain. Now."

* * *

The air hung silent in the small space between two homes in Suncrown Village, and it set Talian's nerves on edge. He shifted his weight, leaning forward slightly to peer deeper into the open courtyard beyond, but stopped when he felt Mireva's rigid fingers squeezing his shoulder. He looked back to her, and she slowly removed her hand, extending a finger to point into the open air above. He followed her finger with his eyes, seeing the myriad of webs that had been constructed between the second floors of all the buildings in the village, and the many nerubians that skittered along their surfaces. One of them moved just above their heads, and Talian looked back down to meet Mireva's gaze questioningly. She inverted her finger that pointed upward at the spider, stabbing it silently but viciously downward, and he nodded to her, readying his sword and shield.

Mireva held her hand out palm-first toward the webbing, and a small roaring ball of light began to coalesce upon it. After a moment, she hurled it upward, where it singed through the webbing walkway. The nerubian whipped its head downward to look at them, but before it could screech in alarm, Talian hurled his shield up through the hole Mireva had created. It slammed into the creature's head, and fell back down. Talian plucked it out of the air as the nerubian above wobbled, mis-stepped, and fell through the opening. Mireva muttered a spell, catching it in the air and lowering it slowly and quietly to the ground below.

Talian approached the beast warily, his sword at the ready, but Mireva put a hand on his arm and shook her head. He stepped back, a confused look on his face, and she approached the nerubian, her hand aglow with dark, shadowy energy. The spider began to stir, and she shoved her hand forward to grab its head. Dark tendrils seemed to plunge deeply into its skull, and Mireva's glowing yellow eyes winked out, her body the picture of a corpse as she began to tumble over to the ground. Talian dropped his blade, rushing to catch her and lower her gently to the dead and corrupted grass, then picked up and sheathed his sword as the nerubian stirred, its eyes opening. They glowed with the same yellow as Mireva's, and the spider seemed to…nod?...to Talian before stepping out into the courtyard and wandering among the houses of the village. Every doorway it passed, it would peer into, and after a long moment of checking the buildings, it lumbered back to where Mireva's body lay, stopping and staring at Talian. He watched it with a wary eye, confused, and the nerubian softly stomped its two front legs into the ground. Talian glanced around and above before leaning in.

"What? I don't…what do you want, Mireva?" The nerubian stomped its legs again, then raised one of its talons, drawing the tip of it along its own throat. "Oh…" Talian replied, embarrassed at his lack of understanding. He drew his blade, swinging out and slicing open the nerubian's neck, bright green blood oozing out from the wound. The beast stumbled, then crumpled to the ground, and its eyes winked out as Mireva's opened. She crawled to her hands and knees, and Talian moved quickly to help her up.

"Thanks," she rasped quietly. "Didn't think you were ever going to get the hint." She looked up to shoot him a sly grin as she spoke, and he shook his head.

"Not every day a nerubian quite literally begs you to kill it," he replied, picking up and handing back her staff which she accepted with a grateful nod.

"I disagree; those things are begging for death just by existing at all." She reached down, brushing some clinging grass blades off of her tattered robes, and Talian smiled at the irony. She caught him, and poked his arm with a bony finger. "Wipe that stupid grin off your face. Even when she's dead, a girl's still got to look her best, you know." Talian put his hands up in mock defense.

"Oh, of course. I'd never say otherwise."

"Uh-huh," she shot back, unconvinced. She peered back out into the village, raising a hand to point at the storehouse across the courtyard. "Your people are in there, bound up in webs. There are two guards."

"Are they injured?" he asked. She shook her head.

"They look fine, aside from being wrapped up. Whatever these beasts want with them, they want them alive." The sentiment didn't reassure Talian, and he drew his blade again, gripping the handle tightly. A thought struck him then, and he looked back to Mireva.

"What about the Forsaken?" The woman's eyes widened a bit, in surprise of his caring for her people, but she regained her composure after a moment and shook her head.

"I didn't see them, but they must be here somewhere." Talian nodded, and the two of them moved again, staying in the shadows of the buildings as they crossed through Suncrown Village. Unease settled into Talian's mind as he remembered how beautiful the village used to be, and he shook his head to clear it from his mind as they approached the storehouse. Talian slipped through the entryway first, Mireva following behind, and as he peeked around the corner, he could see the two nerubians attending to their victims' prisons. Mireva stepped around him, throwing her hand forward as a series of light-forged chains sprang forth to entangle one of the nerubians. The creature hissed in response, and its partner turned. Talian was already charging, ducking beneath the swinging of its razor-sharp talons and slicing through its midsection. The nerubian toppled, its insides spilling out onto the dirt floor. Mireva's hands glowed once more with dark energy, and she reached out, a shadowy tendril connecting her to the nerubian's mind. It screeched in agony as its brain melted under the intense magical pressure, and after a moment it slumped over in death as well.

"Light burn me for a fool," one of the web-wrapped sin'dorei called out in a rough voice. "Never thought I'd see the day I was rescued by a Sunvale."

"Would you like to  _not_  be rescued?" another called out from across the room. "I don't care if it's Kael'thas himself who walked in here, he sets us free and he's alright by my account." Talian chose not to reply, instead slicing through the bindings of the closest few while Mireva worked on the others. In a moment, all were freed, eight recruits standing before them.

"Were there more of you?" he asked quietly. The one who had defended him shook her head.

"There were, sir, but they fell in battle. We're what remains."

"Yes, and not for much longer if we hang about here," his detractor spoke up. "We're free, and the bugs are dead, let's get back to Silvermoon and report in."

"No," Talian said quietly. Those that had begun to move for the door stopped suddenly, looking back at him. For his part, Talian looked across to Mireva, who stood quietly at the edge of the room. "We're not leaving Suncrown without finding the Forsaken prisoners as well." She smiled lightly, and after a moment nodded to him in thanks.

"Are you insane?" the man spoke up again. "I'm not risking my neck for people who are already dead. We have our orders, and we—"

"You follow  _my_  orders now, initiate," Talian interrupted, his eyes ablaze with anger. He took a step closer to the man. "If I tell you to rescue Forsaken, you'll rescue them. If I tell you to report back to Silvermoon, you will. And if I tell you to run out of this building screaming for every nerubian around us to have you for dinner, you'll start screaming. Do you understand me?" Contrary to being intimidated, the man laughed in his face.

"I'll  _die_  before I take orders from some traitorous Sunvale bastard!" he yelled, whipping his blade out of its scabbard. Before he could swing it, however, the tip of a talon protruded from his chest, causing a sickening gurgle to emanate from the back of his throat. Blood trickled down the sides of his mouth, and as he crumpled over, Talian could see the nerubian behind him in the doorway of the storehouse. It screeched in victory, and he rushed to meet it as it was joined by many others, the entire village seemingly alerted to their presence. They stood together, the blood knights hacking and slashing their way through the nerubian ranks, and Mireva keeping them safe from behind. Here and there, a nerubian would break through their line, and Talian would leap to intercept it, one or two of the recruits turning to carve it down from behind. Mireva guided them through the village toward the main spire in back, the only building she hadn't been able to inspect, and as they crested the short flight of stairs leading up to it, the recruits fanned out, holding the landing against the seemingly endless swarm of nerubians.

"Find them!" Mireva yelled to Talian over the screeching of nerubians and the ringing of steel. "We can hold them here!" He glanced past her and knew she was right, the high stone walls of the stairwell funneled the nerubians into his recruits' waiting blades, and Mireva was watching over them with startling ferocity. Talian nodded to her, turning and slamming his shield, with his shoulder behind it, into the large set of twin doors. They flew open inwardly, and his eyes widened at the scene.

The Forsaken troops lay arranged about the floor, a runic circle having been drawn on the floor that glowed with an unsettling blue aura. The chamber was empty, and his footsteps echoed high above into the spire as he slowly crossed the floor, his blade in hand.

"Bold of you," the harsh and inhuman voice whispered from the shadows, and Talian cast his gaze around and above, unable to locate it. "To charge so brashly into my domain." Talian's eyes narrowed.

"A domain stolen from my people," he called back out. "I'll be as brash as I like." The voice did not respond, and Talian sensed his opponent behind him at the last possible moment, hurling himself forward just as the nerubian lord's talon swung through the air where his head had been moments before. He rolled up to one knee, turning to see the gigantic spider as he gritted his teeth. It was a monstrosity, and venom dripped from its front talons and fangs as it rushed to close with him. He spun to the side, slicing its hide before it kicked with a back leg, sending him flying into the nearby stone wall of the spire. His sword clattered away, and before he could reach it, the nerubian closed again. Talian looked up, grabbing a spear used as decoration on the wall, and pierced the spider's stomach from his seated position as the beast charged him. It roared in pain, swinging a talon down to snap the spear in half and lunge for Talian's head.

He rolled forward, dodging the attack and maneuvering beneath the spider, grabbing his blade as he came to his feet. The spider began to circle him slowly, and he kept his blade pointed at it, mindful of his footing as he continued to face the creature. Suddenly, it thrust its front talons forward, spewing webbing all over Talian's armor, and trapping his blade arm at his side. His eyes shot open wide as the beast charged him with a roar, and he dodged around the attack, moving as deftly as he could while trying to free his arm. It was pointless, the webbing clung to him tighter than any chain, and as the spider rushed for him again, he saw his only opportunity. He turned his arm toward the spider and charged at it himself. The beast attacked, clamping its jaws down on his arm in a vicious assault. Talian growled in pain, feeling the venom seep into his veins, and twisted his trapped arm roughly, using the spider's own fangs to slice open his bindings. His arm now freed, he tossed the blade to his opposite hand and roared as he brought it upward, slamming it into the soft flesh beneath the spider's mandible. The blade drove through the beast's skull and into its brain, killing it instantly, and Talian grimaced in pain as he dropped his sword, using the hand to pry open the jaws of his fallen enemy.

He freed his arm, grabbing at it ineffectually and stumbling over to the doorway of the spire. With the death of their leader, the nerubian forces had been hurled into disarray. They began to retreat, stumbling over and trampling each other in a mad dash to escape. His recruits roared out in victory, attacking their fleeing foes, and Talian stumbled across to Mireva. She turned to him, the largest grin he'd ever seen on her face quickly disappearing into an expression of concern when she saw his arm.

"Whatever you did in there, it drove them mad out here," she said quickly, her hands already working at healing his arm. She did so for a moment, then recoiled with a soft hiss. "That…is a foul poison," she whispered, looking up at him. "It will take considerable time for me to heal it, time you might not have. What in the Dark Lady's name did you fight in there?" He stepped aside, showing her the corpse of the nerubian lord.

"Your people…they're in there…" he managed to say, pointing with a limp arm toward the bodies on the ground. Mireva turned to him as he slumped against a pillar, holding his shoulders to steady him as he slid his back down the side of it to sit on the ground.

"You…" she trailed off, looking back and forth between him and her people. "You stay right here. I'm going to get them up on their feet. Hey!" she yelled into his vacant face, slapping his cheek with a bony hand. The pain stung him back to awareness, and he lifted his eyes to meet hers. "Do  _not_  fall asleep, you hear me?" He nodded absently, and she stepped away reluctantly. His eyes looked down the staircase, to his approaching recruits. They all saw the corpse of the nerubian within the spire, and bowed their heads to him in respect. Mireva appeared in the doorway a few moments later, at the head of a contingent of ten Forsaken soldiers. One of them approached Talian where he sat.

"Lord Sunvale," he called out in the familiar Forsaken rasp, "Deathstalker Carville; I head up this sorry bunch. I understand you're to thank for our timely rescue."

"It was…" Talian trailed off, his throat parched, and gestured to his recruits and to Mireva, "a group effort." The man chuckled.

"To be sure." He turned then, crossing to the fallen nerubian lord and ripping one of its fangs out of its mouth. He brought it back into the open, kneeling down onto the landing of the staircase and retrieving a pouch from his belt. In a small vial he mixed some black powder, a few drops of a blood red liquid, and some of the venom from the fang before corking the container and shaking it vigorously. Talian looked on, confused at what he was watching. "One of your people had an alchemy kit on them, with an anti-venom formula. He told me to take them if he fell in battle," the man explained with a shrug. "I don't think he understood how Forsaken work."

Behind him, the other Forsaken let out a small round of laughs, and the man approached Talian once more, offering him the vial. "That's likely to save your life, though I can't promise anything about the taste." A grin played across his face, and Talian returned it as he took the vial and drank its bitter contents. The mixture slid roughly down the back of his throat, burning the whole way through, and his stomach roiled at its presence. He clutched at it ineffectually, and the Deathstalker turned to Mireva. "The rear guard?" She shook her head in reply, and he swore under his breath, turning to address his soldiers. "We need to get to Tranquillien quickly. The High Executor needs to know about Suncrown's status, as well as the plans the nerubians had for us, and he" he pointed to Talian, "will need a soft bed and a bucket to empty his stomach into for a few days. I'd say we can do that much for a friend of the Forsaken, yes?" The soldiers called out their approval, and two of them came forward, picking up Talian and draping his arms across their shoulders.

"I'm…I'm fine," Talian assured them, patting their shoulders to get them to release him. They did so, stepping away, and he nodded to Carville, taking a few hesitant steps across the landing as his stomach continued to rumble from the antidote.

He didn't notice when he stumbled, and he didn't remember crashing, unconscious, to the flagstones.

* * *

"You know, for all I've heard about you being stunning with your hands, you're really not impressing me here," Vaelyth called over to Therinn as they scaled the side of the enemy ship. In the distance above them, the battle still raged, shouted cries and the clashing of blades creating a din under which they infiltrated from the sea. Vaelyth grimaced again at her soaked-through armor and drove the spikes of her climbing grips into the wooden hull of the ship harder than was strictly necessary.

"Darlin'," he called over to her, grunting in exertion from the climb, "I could show you things with my hands that would make you sing Elune's praises all night long." He chuckled to himself, and she rolled her eyes.

"I  _highly_  doubt that," she replied. She thought about Therinn's earlier explanation for the situation, and shook her head. "So he didn't tell you who hired your ship?" Therinn shook his head.

"Nope. Then again, he's not exactly the sharin' type, Vae. All the better we take him out now; his replacement's got a much sunnier disposition."

"Oh?" She grunted as she pulled herself up another foot or so. "And who's his replacement?"

"That'd be me," he replied, shooting her a winning smile. She glared at him in reply, and he laughed. "Hey, you want this thing over and done with or not?" She shook her head, increasing her pace, and after a long moment they vaulted over the railing of the ship, drawing their blades as they landed behind Captain Salthern. He was an aging man, with one glossy eye, weather-beaten and pock-marked skin, and wisps of white hair that hung to his shoulders. He turned to them, a snarling, rotten-toothed grin playing over his face, and drew a wicked blade, a light spiderweb of cracks and dents marring its surface.

"There you are," he growled at her. "Therinn's mutiny," he waved his free hand, "I expected that. But you..." he pointed the tip of his blade toward her, "I wasn't sure how they knew, whether or not they were just lying to get me to take the job, but sure enough...attack the ship, and here you are." Vaelyth narrowed her eyes.

"You don't know me," she spat at him. He laughed coarsely in response.

"No. And I don't need to. All I need is what you're carrying. Oh," he perked up, as if he'd just remembered something, "and your corpse. They were  _very_  specific about that." Therinn dove for the man out of nowhere, and the captain growled at being caught off guard. Vaelyth joined in the fight, and found quickly that despite the man's age, his skill with a blade had not faded, and he battled them both with relative ease. Their battle carried on for minutes, the two of them pressing an advantage only to be turned aside or parried, and she dared not delve into the Shroud again, for fear of what had happened the last time. She gritted her teeth, fighting him with every ounce of strength she had, and in a moment, it fell apart.

Therinn dove to strike at the captain's side, but the man stepped back, slicing a large gash across his chest. Therinn grunted in pain, gripping at the wound even as he tumbled down the staircase that led up to the deck on which they fought. Vaelyth jumped back, and the captain readied his blade. "Tell me, girl, are you ready to face death, and all that lies beyond?" She barely had a moment to react before he lunged for her. In a panic, she parried with her dagger and vaulted into a back-flip, landing on the mast above him. The captain laughed at her, pointing across the way with his sword. "It would appear that half my task is just about complete. Why don't you come down here so we can finish the rest together?"

Vaelyth's eyes followed his sword, and widened as she took in the scene on their ship. Avrena and the others had been pushed back to the top deck of the ship, holding off the pirate forces on the two stairwells on either side. Avrena hurled magic at them, but Vaelyth's heart pounded to see her slump back against the railing of the ship, clearly weary of the fight. Rage ran through her, and she closed her eyes, reaching out in desperation for the Shroud and pulling the darkness within her once more. When her eyes opened, she focused them on the captain, and leaped down to take his life. He stepped back, and his attacks were no less ferocious, but it seemed now that wherever he struck with his blade, she had already moved away from a moment before. She danced around him as he began to panic, a silent specter of death awaiting his surrender. He moved further and further away until his back pressed against the massive helm of the ship, and she closed with him, smacking away his half-hearted strike with her bracer before jamming a dagger between his ribs. He coughed up a spurt of blood, his eyes shooting wide at the pain, and she twisted the dagger before ripping it out, pulling some of his entrails along with it.

He grabbed at the wound as he fell to the deck, and her eyes were already cast back over to their own ship. She held out her clenched left fist, feeling the ancient tattoo that Rhaga had painfully inscribed on the inside of her wrist long ago pulse with dark power. A moment later, the shadows enveloped her, and she re-appeared behind the group of pirates who pinned down the crew of their ship. The overwhelming nausea attacked her as always, but she pushed it away with a wince, swinging her knives into any pirate close enough by to be struck by their blades. As she began to cut them down, the group turned to face her, now beset on both sides by hostile forces. She fought for minutes, or hours, her mind lost track of time as she killed, until at last a loud horn sounded out from the pirate ship. The raiders heard it, and rushed to flee the ship, racing back to the safety of their vessel. She chased after them even as they ran, the Shroud demanding their blood, and cut them down from behind as she stalked them across the deck. She made to follow them across to their vessel, when her progress was suddenly halted by an array of ice that burst into existence at her feet.

She looked down, and then behind her at the spell's source, her cold gaze finding Avrena's outstretched hand as she leaned against the railing for support, her breaths heaving as she struggled to stay conscious. She looked into the draenei's eyes and saw the terror in them, the concern, and pushed the Shroud away with every ounce of mental strength she possessed, her body aching at the exertion of its use. She finally sheathed her blades, and Avrena released her, collapsing the last few inches to the deck. Vaelyth rushed to her, checking her for injuries and grabbing a nearby sack of grain, dragging it over to be used as a cushion for her head. Avrena laughed weakly as she rested on it.

"You are quite the care-taker," she whispered, peering at her through half-closed eyes. "Ten seconds ago I would have thought you could kill me as soon as help me." Vaelyth's heart broke, and she shook her head adamantly.

"I...I can explain. I can explain all of it. But...not you. Never you." Avrena nodded at her.

"I understand, and I will listen when you choose to tell me, but now is not the time, I think." Her eyes looked past Vaelyth's shoulder, and the elf turned to follow, seeing Therinn standing across the short gap between their ships. She looked back down to Avrena, absently brushing a thumb across her soft blue cheek and earning a weary smile in response, then stood and crossed to where he stood, an uneasy tension filling the air between the two ships. He held a small item in his hand, and tossed it across the gap to her. She snatched it out of the air, and turned it over in her hand to look at it.

"It's how they tracked you, darlin'," he called across to her, rubbing a hand against the fresh bandage on his chest. "I'm  _fine_ , by the way." She shot him a sarcastic glance before looking down, immediately recognizing the rune she'd used to lock the tome.

"Arzenius," she whispered, and her mind raced immediately. She sprinted away down the stairs, into the room she shared with Avrena, and grabbed her bag, finding it empty. Throwing it across the room, she rushed back up the stairs and out on the deck, preparing a verbal assault for Therinn and his crew.

"Vae," Avrena called to her from where she now sat upright against the railing of the ship. Her call snuffed out the fire of Vaelyth's rage, and she immediately looked over to her. Beside Avrena on the deck sat an innocuous white bag, which the draenei patted gently with her hand. Vaelyth met her eyes, and she nodded slightly in confirmation. All the fear drained out of her, and she smiled to her before facing Therinn again.

"I think you might owe the captain something for his troubles," she called over to him. Therinn scowled at her, then sent one of his men to bring up some of their stolen haul. They passed it across, and when the captain indicated that he had enough to replace the crew he'd lost when next in port, she waved him away. "Sail safe,  _captain_ ," she called after him. He laughed as the ship began to pull away, yelling back over to her.

"No way to sail safer than by avoiding crossin' blades with you, sweetheart!"

She shook her head at him before crossing over to sit next to Avrena as the pirate ship departed. Time seemed to pass by them in waves, and no one bothered them as they sat and recovered. Soon, the gentle wind was flowing across the deck again as the ship continued onward, and she heard Avrena sigh with relief beside her. Vaelyth had closed her eyes to relax, and after a moment she opened them, looking over to find Avrena's already waiting for her.

"How did you know?" Vaelyth asked her quietly. The draenei woman shrugged against the railing.

"I didn't."

"What do you mean you didn't?" she replied incredulously. Avrena laughed lightly in response.

"Just that, I didn't know that was what they were after. But I knew that if it was, I was not going to allow them to just walk into our room and take it. It was safer with me." Vaelyth shook her head.

"But...why? If they caught you with it..."

"It is important to you, right?" she asked quietly. Vaelyth met her gaze and simply nodded. Avrena smiled. "Then it is important to me, Vae." The elf smiled, shaking her head, and leaned forward to rest it on the draenei's shoulder.

"Avvy..." she whispered, and Avrena laughed again, reaching over to smack her arm.

"That is  _not_ going to be my nickname."


	10. Chapter 9

**~ 9 ~**

Arzenius clenched his jaw as he looked down from the balcony that reached out above the raising pits. Below him, on the floor, the desiccated remains of a group of former living creatures began to climb unsteadily to their feet, shambling about the room. Groans of agony and shrieks of unholy rage wafted up to meet his ears, normally music to his ears, but he waved his hand with a glare, and the hooded cult member behind him bowed in acquiescence before stepping away to ensure the ghouls' delivery. He replaced his hand on the railing of the balcony, both gripping it tightly in barely-contained rage. He had placed a spell on the foul captain when they'd met, and so had known the moment of his death, and thus his failure. He had failed to retrieve the tome, and the elf had escaped his grasp again. He closed his eyes in a quiet rage, the thought of her victories consuming his thoughts of late, and felt the harsh scrape of his charred eyelid against the soft tissue of his eye beneath. It was agonizing, and he embraced the pain, drinking in his own suffering and using it to fuel his anger. Absorbed in his thoughts as he was, he hadn't noticed the creeping cold until long after it had begun to approach. As he did, his eyes shot open once more, this time in fear, the pain of his eyelid's movement completely unnoticed as he spun in place.

She stood there behind him, all graceful undeath, in dark saronite battle-plate, the gift from their master. Her skin was ashen white, as was the short ponytail held behind her head, and behind her slender sin'dorei frame he knew lay a malice and a cruelty to match the master's own. Her expression was neutral, her mouth a slender and straight line across her face, beneath her haunting and glowing blue eyes. At her hips hung a pair of swords, humming faintly with the dark magic of the master's will, and from her mere presence the cold radiated outward in waves, pressing against his body with a sinister intent. He gaped at her for a moment, then gathered his wits, falling to kneel before her.

"Syrisa," he whispered to her in humble greeting, his eyes locked on the floor beneath him. "I…hadn't expected you to make a personal appe—"

"Up." She spoke quietly, but the hollow reverberation in her unholy voice sent a shiver through him, and he cursed himself inwardly for his latent cowardice. He knew of the death knights' existence, he had seen them before. Still, for some reason that voice, that presence, that  _evil_ , emanating from Syrisa's hauntingly beautiful form instilled a deep dread within him. He obeyed immediately, standing once more but keeping his head bowed. She held him in silence for a long moment before stepping forward and past him to look out over the balcony. He turned to follow her with his eyes, her dark plate armor and inky black cloak seeming to mute the light around her, pushing it back to make room for the pure darkness she exuded. He swallowed hard before taking the initiative.

"The captain failed in his mission, my Lady, but we have other contingencies in place. We  _will_ recover the tome; if the master wishes it, then it shall be done."

"Yes," she replied without turning to look at him, "it shall be done. Of that I am certain, Arzenius." She turned then, holding his gaze with her chilling eyes, her expression as solemn as the grave from which she'd been torn. "The master tires of your failures. Were it not for your exceptional skills in necromancy, I would have been sent here under very different orders." She fell back into silence for a long moment after finishing, and his mind raced with terrible ideas of what could have been planned for him. He stared at her, his mouth working for anything to say, but she spoke again before he could, turning back to look out over the balcony once more. "You are to join our forces in Terrorvale, and assist in the cleansing of the plaguelands." Internally, his pride raged in injury, and he spoke before he could stop himself.

"What?! This is ridic—!" His outrage was halted immediately as she spun in place, whipping one of her blades from its sheath quicker than the eye could behold, and landing its tip just in front of his good eye. He followed the blade in his sight, up the arm that held it, and met her narrowed gaze with an all new shiver of fear.

"The alternative is still available, as well," she said with no emotion, as if she were remarking that he'd spilled something on his robes. Arzenius nodded curtly at the end of her blade, and she replaced it with just as much speed as before. "Good. A portal will be conjured for you below, on the first floor."

"M-my wards," he managed to stammer out quietly, and she turned back to face him, her cold gaze boring into his face. For a moment, he thought he could see the smallest of smiles appear on her face and then vanish just as quickly.

"They will not hinder me." He nodded again.

"No, of course not, my Lady. My apologies."

"I do not require your apologies, Arzenius; only your obedience." He bowed his head to her in deference, and she stared at him for a long moment before speaking again, the quiet of the necropolis halls around them oppressive in the absence of speech. "Now, show me the project you've been working on in secret." His eyes widened, and he clenched his hands together tightly in front of his waist.

"My Lady, I don't…I'm not sure…" he trailed off, attempting to break his gaze away from her chilling eyes, but he was unable to. They narrowed slightly, and she stepped closer to him, the darkness palpable in her proximity. It was choking, all-consuming, and he struggled to breathe.

"Show me. Now. And when you're finished, cull your acolytes. A servant who cannot keep his master's secrets is no servant at all." He silently cursed his damnable pupils, then nodded, leading her away and through the necropolis, constantly feeling the chill of her presence as she stalked behind him like a wraith. He led her to the chamber where his no-longer-secret project lay, informed her of his progress on it, and minutes later he stood before the portal on the first floor. Through its shimmering surface he could see the Terrorvale in the plaguelands, and he cast his eyes around the necropolis once more before growling slightly and stepping through.

High above the portal, Syrisa stood silently in the laboratory, looking down at the altar to which Arzenius had led her. She glanced at her hand, which held the dark violet crystal he had relinquished to her, then placed it gently onto the altar, next to the corpse that lay upon its surface. She took a step closer, looking down into the body's face. He was like her, with sleek features that were marred by the spider web pattern of one of Arzenius' spells which emanated from his chest and spread all over his body. His golden hair had been pulled back behind his head, and she reached out to place a cold hand on the large wound that had opened his chest. Things stirred at the back of her mind, flickers of memory, of a place she once knew, of a people she once called her own. She closed her eyes, willing the things out of her mind, and they quieted before falling into silence.

When she opened her eyes once more, she noticed the small pin that had held his cloak in place, and reached out an ashen hand to examine it. On its metal surface, a family crest of some kind seemed to show; a pair of mountains between which the dawning sun rose. Her icy blue eyes widened as the confusing and fragmented memories rushed back, accompanied with a burst of outrage and murderous vengeance. She recoiled from the body, stepping away and clutching at her head with her hands. Flashes of things she couldn't remember, people she didn't recognize, surged through her mind, and at last she screamed with unholy fury, shaking the walls of the room in which she stood and forcefully pushing away the things in her mind. The ground beneath her boots iced over in an instant, surging out and slowing as it radiated away from her. She glared across at the body, then turned on her boot's heel and stormed out of the room. A cult member attempted to approach her, and she shot her hand out towards him without looking, dark tendrils of energy wrapping themselves around his body and hurling him over the railing outside the room. He tumbled, screaming, before his body struck the stone floor of the raising pits with a sickening  _crunch_. Her eyes flitted left and right as she racked her brain to understand what had happened in the room. The symbol had made her hate the man, though she knew not why. Unable to understand, she pushed away the question, turning away from the railing and stalking the halls of the necropolis once more in a cold fury.

Who he had been, how he had slighted her, it mattered not, she thought with narrowed eyes as her plate boots traversed the halls. He was in the master's grip now, and he would serve, the same as her.

Soon,  _all_  would serve.

* * *

"Alright, people, here's our situation," Carville called out in his deep voice, the sound of two heavy stones being ground together slowly. He stood on the main road leading through the Ghostlands to Tranquillien, leaning with both hands on the small section of fencing that still stood at the sides of this stretch. He faced into the dead grass beyond the fence, where his unit of Forsaken troops, Mireva, Talian, and the blood knight recruits had begun to set up a makeshift camp. "Lord Sunvale's going to need to get to Tranquillien; he's not taking well to the antidote, and I'm no true alchemist. You two," he pointed to two of his warriors and they stood a bit taller under his scrutiny, "head into the woods just beyond the camp and fetch us some timber to fashion a litter. And keep your eyes open, the Dark Lady knows what's lurking out there, just waiting to take us next." They saluted him, jogging off into the woods, and he looked to the other Forsaken. "We'll keep watch over the camp; I want eyes on each of the potential attack points we discussed on the way over. Keep your eyes open, and we'll let the elves rest up."

"Sir?" one of the elves called over to him hesitantly, unsure of what title she was to use, and reverting to her ingrained default. She was the woman who had spoken up in Talian's defense in the storehouse, Mireva noted from her seated position beside the prone elven lord near the campfire the elves had created for him, and Carville nodded to her in acknowledgment. She cleared her throat before continuing. "We appreciate your consideration, but I think all of us…" she trailed off, looking around at the others, who nodded in agreement. "We'd like to be a part of the watch rotation, sir. This is our homeland, we know it well, and your people deserve a break as well, even if you might not spend it sleeping." The group of Forsaken soldiers laughed heartily, and Mireva smiled slightly at the elf's tenacity. A half-grin made its way to Carville's face, and after a moment he nodded.

"Alright, set it up with Garret," he agreed, pointing to one of the Forsaken who stood near her. "Admirable of you, paladin." She nodded her head to him, and he tapped the palm of his right hand on the top of the fence in thought. "Oh," he remembered, capturing their attention once more as they began to talk amongst themselves. "I'll need an elf to head back to Silvermoon and report to whomever is in charge there; I imagine the serious injury of a Lord is something of note?" The elves below him nodded and talked together for a moment before a man strode quickly over to stand before Carville.

"It would seem I'm your man," he said in a somewhat-resigned fashion as he approached. Carville chuckled and walked around the edge of the fence, clapping the young man on the shoulder.

"I know messenger runs are never enjoyable, son, but believe me, there's plenty of action yet left in these lands for you." The elf smiled and nodded to him as they crossed the camp, and he waved Mireva over just before they reached the tree at the edge of the clearing to which the horse was tied. Mireva looked down at Talian, who lay resting peacefully for the moment, then stood and joined them. Adarien watched the two Forsaken approach with a wary eye, and stomped his front hooves a few times as they neared. "He won't take one of ours," Carville spoke again, looking at the horse. The elf eyed the charger with hesitation apparent on his face.

"I'm not entirely sure he'll take  _me_ , either." Carville laughed, but Mireva reached out to pat the young elf on the shoulder.

"I'm sure you'll be fine," she said as reassuringly as possible, and he nodded, approaching the horse slowly. Eventually, the steed allowed him to climb up, and once he was sure he wouldn't be thrown from the saddle, the pair of them took off along the road, heading back for Eversong. Carville nodded to her before crossing the camp to speak with those who would be taking the first watch. Mireva returned to Talian's side, and saw as she approached that he had begun to stir.

"Well hello, hero," she said with a quiet smile. "How are we feeling?" His eyes flitted before opening halfway, and they took in the tree line above them before sliding over to find hers.

"I don't…I don't remember the Spire having a skyward window…" he replied weakly, and her face turned up in confusion as she reached over to brush a stray hair out of his face. As she pulled her hand away, he reached up lazily and took her wrist. "Are you…are you alright?" She snorted a short laugh of disbelief.

"Am I…? Yes, I'm fine, Lord Talian. I daresay you took the brunt of the beatings, today." she paused for a moment, but narrowed her eyes in confusion when he didn't release her arm. Instead, she noted with no small amount of discomfort, his thumb had begun to brush her wrist gently. Had she been alive, back in her small village in Lordaeron once more, she was sure she would have blushed violently.

"Good," he murmured, his head lolling to the side and allowing him to meet her gaze with his half-lidded, delirious eyes. "I don't think…I don't know if I could…if you…" His eyes slipped off of her face for a moment, closing of their own volition before snapping back open to their half-lidded state and looking up at her once more. Her face was the picture of concern, and she cast her gaze around to ensure their privacy before she spoke again.

"Who…who do you think I am?" she replied quietly, and beneath her, he coughed out a short laugh.

"Th-this again?" he mumbled with what could have been construed for sarcasm. "Doesn't…doesn't matter what I think…You are who you are, Liadrin." She made to gently pull her arm away, but he pulled it back toward him with much more strength, and she almost tumbled from the log upon which she sat, steadying herself with her other hand at the last moment. "Hey," he called out in quiet compassion, and it caught her attention immediately, another phantom blush running through her mind. "You be…whoever you need to be…And I'll…I'll be right…right beside you…" Her mouth worked for something to say, the sadness of his delirium mixing with the force of the compassionate words he'd said. She remembered hearing similar words what seemed like forever ago, from a man who had truly loved her, and she him. Sadness, memory, and loss welled within her un-breathing chest, and eventually she simply smiled down at him.

"I…I appreciate that," she whispered painfully. A small smile came to his lips, and his mouth worked to say something else before his body gave up the ghost on consciousness, and he slumped over once more into a quiet slumber. She placed her other hand delicately on his chest, the ghosts of her previous life still alive and well in her mind, and smiled deeper. "More than you could possibly know."

A long moment passed in silence, and then she closed her eyes, pushing all the memories of her previous life that had come rushing forward back into the small, neat compartment she had created for them in her mind. She knelt beside him and reached her hands out, pouring more of her healing into his body. After a while, she realized her work could no longer improve his condition, and she leaned back against the log, looking up into the starry night and wondering with a small smile if Liadrin, whoever and wherever she may be, realized just how lucky she was.

* * *

"So…you become an emotionless instrument of death…" Avrena ventured cautiously.

Vaelyth looked away with a wince toward the hull inside their quarters as the ship continued its course. The conversation had been less painful than she had anticipated, but just as uncomfortable. Still, she realized with a steeled resolve, she wanted Avrena to know. She needed her to know. Her head rested against the wall of their cabin, and she rolled it back over to look at the draenei, whose face seemed deep in thought. She sat in a simple linen shirt and leggings, Vaelyth having insisted she try to get some semblance of relaxation in the wake of what had happened, and they'd spent the past few hours together in the room. Avrena had slept fitfully for a while, under Vaelyth's careful watch, but she had soon woken up again, worried about what had happened, and it seemed the only way to get her back to sleep had been to discuss it with her.

"Yes?" she attempted in response, but it felt too curt, and she elaborated. "It just…drains me. I don't see people, I see friends and enemies. Black and white. And then…I do what I do best." Avrena looked at her with a slight scowl.

"You have plenty of other remarkable qualities, Vae. You are not just a pair of walking daggers." Vaelyth gave her a warm smile and a shrug in response.

"Maybe, but those aren't the qualities that are relevant to the Shroud. That's what you wanted to talk about, wasn't it?" Avrena nodded absently, looking away from her. A tense silence fell between them, and Vaelyth reached over to squeeze her arm.

"Av—"

"It was  _not_  you," Avrena interrupted her, quietly but with a grim seriousness. "We have traveled together, learned about each other, fought beside each other…" she trailed off, shaking her head for a moment before lifting it to look Vaelyth in the eye. "I looked up, Vae, and it was  _not_  you. You were…gone." Vaelyth reached over to rub her back, but Avrena stood instead, pacing across their cabin and turning around to face her. The shirt that Vaelyth had given her was the slightest bit too short, and showed the barest hint of her midriff when she stood at full height. To her great internal embarrassment, Vaelyth found herself almost having to force her eyes to stay on Avrena's as she spoke. "You…you touch dark magic.  _Foul_  magic. And I do not…I do not understand it. I cannot learn it, I cannot examine it…and you are supposed to be able to have a way to shut it off, to put it back? Where was that out there?" Her voice had risen as she spoke, and she jabbed a light blue finger at the door of their cabin to accentuate her point. "By the Light, Vae, how are we supposed to keep it in check?" Vaelyth shook her head in confusion.

" _We_  don't do anything about it, Avvy," she replied quietly, and the draenei tilted her head and widened her eyes, bristling at the nickname once more. Vaelyth winced again, knowing she wasn't going to make any friends in choosing  _that_  hill to die on right now. "Avrena," she corrected herself immediately. She paused for a moment, holding her gaze before continuing. "It's something  _I_  have to fight with; it's  _my_  struggle."

"And how exactly am I supposed to learn about and understand this…magic…you use, if all you are going to describe it to me with are vague statements and feelings? How am I supposed to understand how you control it?" Vaelyth leaned back against the wall, her eyes reaching up to the ceiling in exasperation.

"Avrena," she pleaded, "I'm just…trying to make you aware of it. It's something I trained with Rhaga for years to learn how to use, I'll be fine."

"You were  _not_  fine!" Avrena barged in. Vaelyth jumped to her feet, her eyes narrowing at the other woman.

"I  _was_! Ask Captain Salthern, ask the ship's cook on the deck below us, if he's even able to look either one of us in the eye again. Hell, ask the pirates that were planning on doing  _unspeakable_  things to you right out there in the hallway. They'll all tell you, I was in  _rare_  form." Avrena barked out a single cold laugh.

"Oh yes, you were in rare form, indeed. I'm having trouble imagining the last time any of the people you killed today saw such a rare form of cold death stalk among them!" She stopped, having reached a yelling pitch by the end of her sentence, and put a hand to her forehead, rubbing it in an attempt to calm herself down. After a moment, she continued calmly. "Yes, Vae, you saved an incredible amount of people's lives today, but at what cost? What happens when you try to push this Shroud away with every ounce of strength you have, and it isn't enough? Did Rhaga tell you what happens then?" Vaelyth looked away from her, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"It won't come to that," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Avrena held out her hands in confusion, waiting for more of an explanation, but none came.

"You see? This is  _exactly_  what I'm talking about. I try to understand how it works, and you ju—"

"Why do you need to understand it?" Vaelyth interrupted, rounding on her. "I'm not asking you to train me in it, I just wanted  _one_  fucking person to be  _aware_  of it, because I don't  _have_  anyone, anymore, who does! Why is it so important to grasp the nuance of the damned thing?!"

"Because if I do not  _understand_  it, I cannot help  _protect_  you from it!" Avrena screamed at her, in a voice louder and harsher than she'd ever heard the woman use. Pain singed the words it carried, and when Vaelyth looked back across the room to her, she could see the tears welling in the corners of her eyes. Her own were wide with shock, and she mouthed words that her brain hadn't yet formulated, the silence between them broken only by the draenei's occasional sniff as she tried desperately to contain her emotional outburst.

"You…" Vaelyth began, her mind writing and erasing what she wanted to say to Avrena over and over in the span of a second, her lips unable to keep up and present a coherent thought. "Avrena, I…" She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to form the words, and Avrena shook her head, turning away from her and crawling into bed.

"I think I'll be able to sleep now," she replied quietly after she tucked herself under the blanket and faced away toward the wall. Vaelyth reached out her hand to the open space between them, then snatched it back. Her own eyes were beginning to brim with tears, but she steeled herself as best she could.

"Al…Alright," she managed after a moment. "I'll…give you some quiet, I guess." Avrena didn't offer a response, and after waiting a few more seconds for one, each moment feeling like an eternity, she opened the door to their cabin and stepped out into the hallway, closing the door quietly behind her. Her eyes glanced quickly down the floorboards, to where the blood stains still lay faint in the wooden planks, and she squeezed her eyes shut, climbing the stairs out onto the main deck and looking up into the cloudless night sky. She crossed to the railing, leaning against it with her forearms and hanging her head.

"Ha! Ol' Harlan knows that look, he do," the ship's lookout called over to her as he crossed the deck. She raised her head to give him a friendly smile, and he offered her his cup of that wonderful beverage they'd tasted the previous morning. He held it in his left hand, his right carrying a bundle of cloth as he had before. She held an open hand up to politely refuse, and he nodded, stepping up beside her at the railing.

"What look?" she asked him after a long silence, the two of them simply looking out over the inky black night sea. The man chuckled, a sound that emanated from deep within his chest, then groaned a bit in pain as his hand found the bandage that had been wrapped around his head to keep closed a wound he'd sustained in the fighting.

"That be the defeated look o' a man, well… _usually_  a man, who knows he's lost him an argument but can't quite admit it yet," he replied with a smile. "Only, these ol' eyes didn't see ye board our esteemed vessel with no man, so ol' Harlan's bettin' you and that little spitfire of a lass had you a row." Vaelyth shrugged, nodding along in confirmation of his assessment, and he sighed, looking back out over the ocean and leaning on the railing as she did. After a moment, he shook his head. "Lovers' quarrels, I tell ye. Always seem to come out o' nowhere, they do. And not exactly patched up as easy as a ship's sail; that there I can attest to personally." He held up a finger, pointing it for emphasis. Vaelyth's cheeks flushed, and she looked away.

"We're, ah…we're not…" she trailed off, hoping he would take the hint, but instead he only laughed. When she looked back to him, his eyes were wide in disbelief.

"Really? Well, ye could have fooled this half-blind sailor. Believe I do owe Berec a few crowns, if that be the case."

"Wait," she replied, turning fully towards him, "you thought we were…but you still…?" He chuckled again at her reference to the previous day's events, and waved his hand.

"Well ye catch more flies with honey than vinegar, don't ye?" he replied nonchalantly, though the familiar words floored Vaelyth. He shrugged. "Phrase me mother'd use on us boys when she'd trick us back in the house by tellin' us she'd bought some sweets while she were in town. 'Course, every time we came runnin'. And every time, there be a bowl o' cold porridge sittin' on the table." He laughed quietly to himself. "Ah, but I miss her. Craftiest woman I e'er did meet, that one; and that's sayin' quite a bit, seein' as how you and I are recently acquainted!" He grinned over at her, and she laughed a bit at his jab. "There we are," he said quietly, patting her on the shoulder though she stood almost half a foot taller than him. "One laugh, and ye be well on yer way back to alright." He held up the cloth for the sails in her direction, the silent indication that it was time for him to return to work, and she nodded to him in thanks. He returned the gesture, picking up his cup from off the railing and beginning to whistle into the night as he crossed over to the stairs.

"Hey, Harlan," she called out to him as he left, and he turned in place. "What made you think that? About us?" He chuckled in response.

"Plenty o' things, lass, since the day ye came aboard. But mainly t'were her eyes, I'll tell ye true."

"Her eyes?"

"Oh, aye," he called back to her. "That whole spit of fightin' up by the helm, all she could do were leer across at yer battle with that pirate cap'n. Fair shake to say she saw more o' yer battle than the one she were actually a part of!" A tightness settled in her chest as he smiled, beginning to turn away before remembering something else and looking back to face her once more. "Ah, and yer book, that one what them pirates were after." She nodded.

"What about it?" His smile beamed across at her, even in the dark night.

"That girl clung to it like it were driftwood in a storm. I'd bet me last golden crown she'd rather've died than give it up." He stared across at her for a moment, then shrugged. "Must be one hell of a read, that." He laughed at his own joke, turning and climbing the staircase. As he disappeared from her sight, she could hear his faint whistling at the other end of the ship, and her eyes looked out over the water for a long moment.

Emotions and reservations swarmed inside her chest, and she unconsciously placed a hand to it in some vain attempt to keep them in. She remembered Avrena's question about her information-gathering methods from the day before, her sly comment over the top of the cup they'd shared, everything simply adding onto the mountain of affection she held for the woman she'd been traveling with. She shook her head, feeling selfish and ashamed at how she'd brushed off Avrena's legitimate concerns, and walked back toward the staircase leading down into the hull. She stopped halfway there, turning on her heel and crossing her arms over her chest in conflicted frustration. She warred internally. What if she were wrong? What if this…whole thing, was wrong? Her eyes wandered up to the sky and found the moon hanging silently above her, and she scowled at it. She had resolved from a young age to leave nothing to the whims of so-called deities, to make her own path in the world and walk it. Was she really about to let her pride, her fear, take someone she cared for from her? Her eyes came back down to the deck. She did care for Avrena, as deeply as she could imagine caring for another person, and in many…inexplicable…ways that she never  _had_  cared for another person. Her stomach twisted with fear, and she shoved it away, moving back toward the lower decks entrance and crossing to their cabin.

She opened the door quietly, slipping into their room and closing it behind her. Slowly, carefully, her heart pounding the entire while, she removed each piece of her armor until she stood in just her undershirt and leggings, the cold wood of the floorboards sending a chill up her spine as her bare soles touched it. She leaned against the wall of their room for a moment, her mind still racing as she looked over at Avrena's sleeping form. She lay on her side, her shoulder rising and falling in time with her breathing, and her slender blue tail draped over the edge of the bed, the small golden ring around it resting against the floor. Vaelyth breathed deeply, pushing away her fear, then crossed over to her bed. She reached down, gently moving Avrena's tail back onto the mattress, and lay down beside her. Her arm, trembling slightly, she placed on the draenei's hip, and her breath caught in her throat as Avrena stirred from the contact. The draenei brushed a hand over her body to move whatever had touched her, but froze when she realized what it must have been. Her eyes opened, and Vaelyth's entire body began to shake with fear as Avrena turned her head to look her in the eye. She held her gaze for a long moment, and then shifted on the bed until she lay facing Vaelyth, their eyes locked on each other's.

"This is an odd way of continuing an argument," she whispered across the gap between their faces. Vaelyth still trembled, a feeling she had not experienced in a long time, but a short laugh escaped from between her lips. She closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head.

"I don't want to continue it; I want it to be over." She opened her eyes, meeting Avrena's once more. "I was…stupid. And wrong. I just…it's just that no one…I mean not since Rhaga…" Across from her, the draenei nodded silently. "And then you…" she closed her eyes again, taking a deep breath that shook as she exhaled. "You were right, and I'll tell you whatever you want to know. Whatever helps." Avrena smiled across at her, and Vaelyth's heart melted, the worry of the past few hours seeming to seep out of her. A short moment of silence hung between them, and then the smile slipped off Avrena's face, replaced by a mask of hesitant curiosity.

"Is that…why you came here?" she asked, nodding to the bed on which they lay. Vaelyth stared into her eyes for a long moment, fighting every fear and feeling of dread within her. The long pause, and the way Vaelyth looked across at her in the dark of their cabin, seemed to collate together in Avrena's mind, and the draenei reached over, placing a soft hand on Vaelyth's quivering shoulder. "I know..." she began slowly, taking her time to select the precisely correct words. "...that you're probably feeling a lot of things right now." The elf's eyes cast themselves quickly away, full of embarrassment, shame, rejection. Avrena squeezed her shoulder tightly, and they promptly returned to her own. "And I'm...feeling some things as well, Vae. But I...I'm not sure if we..." she trailed off, and Vaelyth shook her head against the pillow. When her voice came, it was pained, the plans she'd had since entering the cabin fleeing her mind with reckless abandon as she spoke.

"I just...I need...something." Tears began to leak from the corners of her eyes, and she shivered quietly. "I don't know what. I don't...I don't have a fucking clue, Avvy."

"Shhh," Avrena called out to her, reaching her arms across and pulling her until she embraced her fully. "I understand, Vae. Truly, I do." Vaelyth continued to cry silently against Avrena's shoulder, and the draenei ran her hand up and down her back to soothe her as she did. A few minutes of silence passed between them, and when Vaelyth pulled back, Avrena kept her arms around her, smiling sadly as their eyes met again. Vaelyth sniffed slightly before speaking.

"If...if you want, I can..." she trailed off, pointing a thumb over her shoulder back toward her own bed, and Avrena just pulled her closer again in response, leaning forward and gently kissing her forehead.

"You can stay," she whispered. "Just don't steal my blankets." She smiled across to Vaelyth, who managed a small laugh in between sniffles.

"No promises," she replied, shifting herself back down on the bed to get comfortable. "I'm a pretty good thief, after all." Avrena looked away, making a non-committal noise.

"Eh, you are passable," she replied, looking back to Vaelyth out of the corner of her eye with a smile.

"Passable?!" Vaelyth whispered harshly, and Avrena laughed. "Lady, are you trying to start a whole new argument, here?" Avrena continued to laugh, then settled into a warm smile, pulling Vaelyth in for another tight embrace before she released her. The two of them looked into each other's eyes, each trying to think of something to explain how they felt, to explain anything at all. Try as they might, no satisfactory answer would come, and before either could think on it long, the calming darkness of sleep overtook them.


	11. Chapter 10

**~ 10 ~**

Liadrin stood at the map table in the Hall of Blood, both palms pressed firmly against the table top to support her as she glared down into the contours of the map that lay upon its surface. She sighed lightly, then reached off to the side of the map, taking up another token indicating Scourge forces, and placed it back onto the map at Windrunner Spire. She had stretched to reach the location, and in doing so a lock of her hair fell out of its neatly-tied ponytail and hung before her face. She raised her eyes, looking at the offending strand for a moment before tucking it back behind her ear just as Halduron entered the room.

His hands hung by their thumbs in two of the utility loops on his belt. Normally, they would be holding potions or secondary weapons, for when an enemy had the good, or bad depending on the situation, luck of closing into melee distance with the accomplished marksman. Today they sat empty, serving no purpose other than to be a comfortable place for his hands. He grimaced as he rounded the table, but said nothing as he slowed to a stop at her side.

"We need a permanent solution," she said quietly to break the lingering silence. Beside her, he nodded thoughtfully. "We clear them out, or the Forsaken do, and days later they're right back in place; like the work meant nothing. Like the loss of lives meant nothing." Another silence fell, and she slammed her palm down into the table-top, shaking all the markers where they stood. She turned to face him, her eyes full of fury. "I'm tired of reading casualty reports and having barely anything to show for it, Halduron. I'm tired of answering the  _same_  questions from the  _same_  noble lords every day of my life." She sighed, the fury seeming to leave her and be replaced by sorrow. "It's been years... How many more of us have to die to the Scourge before we can truly call this place home again?" Halduron laid a comforting hand on her pauldron, and she looked up the inches of height that separated them to see his tired smile.

"More, I imagine, but each one falls for an idea, a purpose. And if Lor'themar can gain us entry into the Horde, there will be an untold increase in resources available to us to secure our homeland.  _Anar'alah_ , we might even be able to actually deal with the troll situation before the turn of the century."

"Anything new, there?" she asked absently. His face belied the concern he held inside, but he shook his head.

"I've gotten reports of the trolls at Tor'Watha performing what appear to be necromantic rituals, but those are coming from green scouts; I'm not sure I'd believe it out of hand." He sighed. "Aside from that, no. They keep raiding the eastern villages, and the Farstriders put them down where we can, but we're always late and often irrelevant. They move so erratically, I'd need far more troops to keep an eye on them to have any decent chance at being proactive."

"Give me some time," she said quietly, her eyes sliding away to focus on the wall of the room behind him. "Let me get some maps and I can help you plan out allocations of—" she trailed off when he began laughing lightly, her eyes coming back to meet his, her face twisting up in confusion.

"Whether it's the Scourge or the trolls, you still think you must shoulder every burden alone. But the reclamation of Quel'Thalas is a duty that every sin'dorei must carry, not just one. It will all be done, Liadrin, we're not a people known for giving up when times get difficult. It's only a matter of when."

"Perhaps," she ceded. He was right, she knew he was. She always tried to handle things alone, or at the very least be the one responsible for seeing a thing through. For all she followed Lor'themar's commands as her Regent Lord, she had never been very good at taking orders. Halduron removed his hand and shook his head, walking around the edge of the table to see the map from a new angle as he spoke.

"Would Talian tell you any different, if he were here?" Her eyes flicked over to meet his, and the knowing smirk he wore drove her nearly insane. She made her face a mask of professionalism and looked back to the map.

"Hard to say. Likely, I imagine." Halduron only shook his head and laughed quietly to himself. She thought about retorting, but it would only confirm that he'd gotten to her, again, so she stared down intently at the map.

"Not that hard, I'd think," he replied across the table. "By the way, how was your business at the Enclave?" She did look up at that, meeting his eyes with a look that promised physical pain.

"None of yours," she replied coolly, and his grin only faltered for the barest of moments. He was a good man, and truly her friend, but he dug too deeply for her tastes. Some time ago, in the recent wake of Talian's disownment by his father, he'd walked in on her extending him a sympathetic embrace, and had not shut up about it since. He did, at least, have the good sense to only tease her about it when they were alone. She wanted to think him more the fool for it, but lately she didn't wonder if he'd simply seen what she couldn't at the time.

She looked back down at the map, lost in thought and only looking up when she heard the sound of hooves approaching at a gallop. She moved quickly from the room, Halduron right behind her, and when she stepped out into the light of day, her breath caught in her throat.

Adarien neighed at her in recognition, crossing over and nuzzling the hand she'd absently reached up toward him. The young sin'dorei in the saddle swung down and bowed to them both. "Lady Liadrin, Ranger-General," he said, pulling her out of her stupor, "Suncrown Village has been retaken by a coalition of the Forsaken and Blood Knights."

"See? Things are looking up already," Halduron said with a smile. She kept her eyes on the messenger, who was decidedly  _not_  smiling.

"What else?" she coaxed him in an icy tone.

"It's…Lord Talian, my Lady." The ice she'd felt in her tone now coalesced into a pit that took up residence squarely in her stomach, and only grew larger as the recruit continued. As she listened, her hand moved of its own accord to a spot high on her gleaming breastplate, her fingers playing absently across it, desperate to reach the hammered silver dragonhawk that hung from a thin chain beneath it.

* * *

She knelt before the dark altar, her eyes closed in concentration as the blue orb above it hummed with power. A strong desire to run a hand over the top of her head and ensure that her ponytail was still secure washed over her, a nervous habit of her living days, and she shoved it down to better focus on his presence. She had wondered if the process had somehow gone wrong with her, if she hadn't been fully taken by his power, or if the constant reminders that she had not always been what she now was were just part of the endless suffering she endured as his minion. The question haunted her, but now was not the time.

_"Bold of Arzenius, to so brashly attempt using my power for his own_ ," the Master whispered. It was a voice within her head, the feeling of icy claws rasping across the surface of her mind. It was pain and bliss all at once, a frostbitten embrace from which she could not, would not, extricate herself.

"Yes, Master," she called back, the obedient servant to his will. "But also arrogant." Within her mind, he laughed, a deep-seated sound of malice.

" _Arrogance is often the mark of a good necromancer,_ " he whispered in reply. " _To perform the rituals they do, one must believe himself more worthy of power over life than any gods he had ever prayed to before."_

"Will he be punished, Master?" There was a long silence before he spoke again. This was not unusual; the Master often handled many situations at once, and as his servant she would remain knelt in place until he returned to her mind once more, be it for minutes or years. This was not an expression of blind loyalty; her body would not allow her to move.

" _In time,"_  came the reply, a dark promise lurking beneath its surface, like water trapped beneath oil. " _His subject, could it serve me well?"_

"Yes, Master," she replied immediately. "Aside from an easily-repaired chest wound, and the leavings of Arzenius' magic, he is otherwise able to serve you."

" _Good. Then use the crystal, Syrisa._ " Her eyes shot open, widened with surprise.

"It...will work?" she heard him laugh deeply again, the single chord slicing into her brain.

" _Arzenius failed in one task, let us see if he succeeded in another,"_ the Master replied. " _Use it. Raise the elf."_

"Yes, Master," she replied. "Shall I send him to you in Acherus, provided he survives the process?"

" _No,"_  came the reply. " _You will train him as Razuvious trained you. Consider it an acknowledgment of your service to me."_

"Yes, Master."

" _The time is soon arriving for our march on Light's Hope, Syrisa. I will summon you both when that day comes. I trust he will not disappoint me."_

She opened her mouth to reply, but he was already gone, his orders given, her use fulfilled. She stood slowly, narrowing her eyes with some unrecognizable hatred for the elf on the table as she turned and walked away from the altar. Still, it didn't matter what had happened in her previous life, she told herself as she stalked the halls. If he had been responsible for her death and rebirth, she was about to repay the favor tenfold.

* * *

She felt the waves first, the gentle rocking of the surface beneath her. They moved calmly, ebbing and flowing at a snail's pace, and allowing the ship to glide across them with little effort. She stirred to consciousness slowly, like a leaf fluttering its way gently to the ground after falling from the branch, and when her eyes at last opened, the small ball of magical light that hung in the air above them began to grow a bit in its intensity, reacting to her mental state. She quickly waved a pair of fingers in its direction, and it faded back down once more, casting the cabin into a soft and quiet glow. She yawned silently, balling up her fist to cover her mouth as she did. It was an old polite habit, and she knew that it didn't really matter when no one else was around.

But someone  _was_  around, she realized with a soft smile as she felt the warmth running along her spine. She glanced down to see the arm draped lazily over her waist, shifted slowly in place, careful not to wake her, and watched Vae while she slept. Her eyes flitted immediately to the elf's facial tattoos, like they did every time; she loved the contrast of her white hair and the purple ink with which they'd been created. She wondered if Vae had been allowed to choose the style and color, or if they'd been assigned to her. She wondered about the significance of their appearance and shape on her skin. She wondered if they had hurt in the application. That last bit pulled the smile a bit from her face, and she unconsciously shifted slightly closer to the other woman as her mind continued to race.

She knew Vae had been hurting, it had been apparent from the moment they'd met, and had lingered beneath the surface as they'd traveled together. She silently chided herself for not handling herself better in their argument the night before, but her emotions had boiled over. Since she was a child, her father had told her that she "ran hot," to use his own phrase, like her mother had, and try as she might to control her emotions and think logically, she couldn't just allow herself to destroy a connection she had to the woman who had given her birth. Over the years, she had learned to strike a delicate balance, to keep herself emotionally invested while at the same time safely distant, and it had worked well for her. After all, she'd hardly been the only draenei to lose family in the flight from the Legion, and were she to let her emotions run wild, she'd have spent her entire childhood and adolescence crying her eyes out at the loss all around her. Instead, her father had picked her up and carried on. Her eyes slid away from Vae's face for a moment, and she thought about him, missing him terribly. He had looked into the face of his worst nightmare, losing the woman he loved, and carried on. For her. Because she had needed him. Tears pushed their way into the corners of her glowing eyes, and she wiped them away with a slender finger. She would make him proud, and she would come back to him. She would not be the reason he lost everything.

Vae stirred beside her, and ended up rolling her sleeping head slowly off the pillow. It thumped quietly onto the surface of the bed, and Avrena suppressed a laugh at the sight. She reached out, gently lifting her head and sliding the pillow underneath it once more. Vae groaned quietly in response.

"Don't wanna…" she mumbled in her sleep, "trained all day yesterday…wanna sleep…"

The smile found its way back to Avrena's lips, and she reached over once more, brushing a few wayward strands of snow-white hair off the surface of Vae's face as she slept. She watched her for a long moment, her mind empty of thought, and just took in her sleeping form. Her leggings hugged her skin tightly, the clearly-defined muscles she'd developed in her legs showing plainly through the garment. Her shirt had been twisted as she'd tossed and turned during the night, and it rode up above her midriff, exposing her light pink skin and toned midsection. It pulled tightly across her chest, and Avrena felt a heat rush to her face as she ran her eyes over Vae's curves. Light, but she was beautiful, she thought to herself, raising a hand to rub at her cheek in some vain hope of dispelling her desire. She was cunning, intelligent, and while Avrena had been tamping down her own stirring thoughts for a while now, she had been shocked to see that same kind of desire in Vae's eyes as they had lain together last night. Her eyes had been practically begging, and Avrena had backed away as tactfully as possible, difficult as it had been.

It wasn't that she wasn't interested, she thought as the elf shuffled around on the bed once more. She'd been interested since the morning they'd woken up in their camp along the road to Auberdine. Avrena had put her mother's crystal around her neck, and a few tears for her had slid down her face, as they always did. Vae had seen it happen, and had said nothing, simply crossed to her and embraced her. They had stood that way for what felt like hours, neither of them saying a word, and when they'd finally separated Vae had retrieved a warm blanket from the tents, wrapped it around Avrena's shoulders, and sat her down by the fire pit she'd built to ward off the chill of the morning air. She had hand-built a fire for them, despite that Avrena could have called one to life with a wave of her hand. She had gone out to hunt for breakfast for them, despite that Avrena could have conjured something. She had sat right next to her, touching at the hips, while they ate, despite that she could have left her to deal with her memories alone. For the entire morning, they'd said not a word, Vae performing her duties with many heartfelt glances in her direction, and Avrena watching her skilled hands work. When it had all been taken care of, when Vae had packed all their things and made them ready to move again, she had come to find Avrena standing on the road, looking out through a gap in the woods around them at the ocean as its waves crashed upon the shoreline, the sound muffled with the distance. She hadn't said a word, simply stepped up beside Avrena and held her hand in support. She had looked at Vae then, and seen in her a kind of hidden selflessness and care that had melted her heart.

She shook her head slightly, dispersing the memory. She knew there was an attraction between them, something made much more evident last night, but something she didn't altogether understand. She had seen the look in Vae's eyes, the desperation, the fear. She'd known that had she let her continue…she closed her eyes for a moment, the heat returning to her face at the mere imagining of what might have happened. She needed to think logically about the situation, get a better sense of their feelings before making such a big decision, despite how difficult Vae made it for her at times. As if summoned to consciousness by the mere thought of her, the elf's eyes flitted open, finding hers immediately. A small smile made its way across her face.

"Shouldn't stare at people while they're sleeping," she mumbled, still finding her way fully back to awareness. She stretched her arms out into the air above her, and her shirt rode up even more on her torso. Avrena kept her eyes fully locked on Vae's own, with great difficulty. "It's considered creepy in…well, pretty much everywhere."

"You are in  _my_  bed, I'll thank you to remember," Avrena shot back quietly, "I will stare as much or as little as I like." Vae closed her eyes as she laughed lightly, stretching out more before looking back to her.

"Yes ma'am." They looked at each other, smiling, for a long moment before Vae reached out to her, pulling her into a warm embrace. Avrena let herself be drawn in despite her better judgment, and wrapped her arms around her in return. "Listen," she said quietly, barely above a whisper, and Avrena's heart skipped a beat. "About last night…" Avrena shook her head, the smile never leaving her lips.

"You don't have to say anything, Vae" she replied just as quietly. "It had been…a  _long_  day, to be sure." Vae nodded along in agreement, but her eyes said something else, and Avrena had an idea of what. She just wasn't sure that now was the right time to discuss it, though. She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the elf's toned arms around her, and wanted desperately to just give into her thoughts, all the ideas and possibilities in her head. She steeled herself against recklessness, though, and opened her eyes with a small nod. Vae seemed to pause for a longer moment than necessary, and Avrena's face turned up in confusion before Vae opened her mouth to speak.

The knock at their door startled them both out of their stupor, and Vae gave her a sad smile and a look that said they'd keep talking later. She squeezed Avrena once in her embrace and then let her go, hopping up from the bed and crossing to answer the door. She was still only in her undershirt and leggings, and Avrena smiled reflexively when Vae opened the door but stood beside it, completely blocking her from view of whoever had come to disturb them. The elf had no compunctions about being seen indecently, but she'd still thought to shield Avrena from any potential embarrassment, and the gesture was not lost on her.

"Well, Light burn me," came the surly voice from the hallway. "If ol' Harlan'd known that's what ye looked like under all them layers, mayhap he'd 'ave given ye a little more attention while ye were here." A small chuckle escaped him afterward, and Avrena rolled her eyes as she waited for Vae's flirtatious reply. And so no small amount of surprise ran through her when it didn't arrive.

"What's the word, Harlan?" she asked him, with no hinting inflection whatsoever. The man seemed stunned into silence for a short moment, then stammered and collected himself.

"Ah, right. Well, the cap'n be sayin' that what with all the supplies lost in that pirate attack, we do no be havin' enough to make the trip to the Bay, as it were. Gonna need to be makin' a small stop-over, we are."

"Where?" she asked.

"Stormwind…" Avrena whispered, having seen the navigation options in her mind. Vaelyth turned to look at her, a fear present in her eyes, and Avrena smiled softly back at her, with a small nod that told her everything would be fine.

"Aye, just so," Harlan confirmed. "Ah, hello in there, lass! Hope ye be doin' well this mornin'!"

She smiled. "Hello Harlan. I am doing just fine, just a bit indecent at the moment. That only appears to bother half of us, though." Vae laughed lightly, turning and giving her a smile that made the heat rise into her face once more. She turned back to the man and thanked him for the information, and he was on his way, Vae closing the door behind him.

"I can't go back to Stormwind," she whispered across the room. Avrena stood, adjusting her own shirt as she stepped across to place a hand on Vae's back.

"Because of…your old team?" she ventured quietly. The elf shrugged, still looking down at the floorboards.

"In part." She turned then, facing the draenei. "I told you the whole story the day we met; you  _know_  where I got that tome; and so do the guards in the city. If my face isn't plastered all over the walls there, I'll be  _severely_  unimpressed with their tenacity." Avrena smiled slightly, and it seemed to coax one out of Vae as well. She leaned forward, resting her head on Avrena's shoulder. "I don't…" she sighed.

"What?" she asked, rubbing her hand up and down Vae's back in support. The elf groaned quietly in frustration, then stepped back, holding her shoulders gently.

"I can handle cutthroat pirates, backstabbing buyers, fighting off some crazed necromancer, and the threat of being thrown in a cell the second this ship docks in Stormwind." Avrena shook her head.

"Vae, that is  _not_  going to hap—"

"What I  _can't_  handle," she interrupted quietly, and Avrena let herself be silenced, "is leaving you on your own."

"Vae, I'm telling you, you will no—"

"I mean, it's not that I don't think you're capable," she interrupted again, dropping her hands and turning to pace around the room, "It's just that…I think we work really well together, yeah? And I'm not trying to bring up the…awkward stuff from last night, except that that's kind of part of it, you know?"

Avrena rolled her eyes, crossing back to her bed and removing her mother's crystal from inside her bag as Vae continued to ramble. She held her hand out to it, casting an intricate arcane spell on the small shard, and when she was satisfied with her work, she picked it up and crossed the room once more.

"And to think about you wandering around out here on your own because  _I_  was stupid enough to come back to the scene of the crime and get caught makes me think I'm ju—what the-?" Her train of thought was interrupted as Avrena circled around in front of her and slipped the cord of the necklace over her head, using careful hands to guide her ears through its loop, and tucked the crystal beneath the neck of her shirt. As soon as it touched her skin, the illusion took hold, and she transformed before Avrena's eyes. Her hair changed from its striking white into a soft violet in color, her legs altered into a pair of hooves, and two small horns appeared, curving above and behind her head. Her features altered themselves slowly, until after a moment she looked as if she would be just as at home in the Exodar as would Avrena herself.

Vae held her hands out, looking down at the dark blue skin that now appeared to cover them. She held out a leg, examining one of her hooves and turning it left and right in awe. "Well…" she breathed quietly after a long moment. She looked back up to Avrena with a smile. "Aren't you just a beauty?" The accent that masked her voice made Avrena giggle, and Vae laughed in response, the two of them gathering up their things together as the bell above deck began to ring out.

* * *

_"So, there's nothing to suggest…" she trailed off, allowing the interrogator to finish her thought for her. The woman shook her head adamantly._

_"No, Lady Liadrin. We've had agents watching Talian and Kalos Sunvale since the betrayal; there's nothing at all to suggest they're still aligned with their father. All evidence says they were willingly abandoned for not following Kael'thas." The woman's familiarity with the former Prince's name still made her feel a twinge of dismay. He had taken their people's lifeblood from them and absconded to Outland with those loyal to him, leaving the rest of them to die. Why she should feel some disposition to still use the title he no longer had a right to wear was beyond her. Shock, she imagined. She wanted to believe the news, wanted to believe she knew Talian and Kalos well enough after all they'd been through, but she couldn't trust anyone at the moment. She shuddered to think that she might not ever again._

_"Keep your agents in place, look for anything suspicious," she replied quietly, her heart screaming at her in outrage, and the woman nodded._

_"Of course, Lady Liadrin. I'll send the message personally." Liadrin nodded, stepping quickly from the room and trying desperately not to vomit on the way out. The afternoon sun baked her face as she exited the office, peering down the street and considering a drink from the open-air bar there. She took a few steps toward it before she saw him, seated alone, his golden yellow hair in a disheveled state. He stared down into the cup he nursed, but he seemed to feel her eyes on him, and looked up, finding her almost instantly. A pained smile twisted up the corners of his mouth, and she could see clearly the bruising that marred the left side of his face. They had been merciless in their interrogation, and just seeing him in that state broke her heart. She wanted to rush to the table, heal every injury, apologize to him, beg him to leave with her, to just run from this land and these people that would never again hold faith in him. She wanted him to tell her he would go anywhere with her, to tell her everything would be just fine, to smile at her the way he had before, to lean just a bit closer to her so she could take in the scent of him, like he had years ago, by the river..._

_"Liadrin," Halduron called out from behind her, and she turned her head to look at him as he approached. "Lor'themar needs us; we need to get structured leadership into place quickly before this whole thing falls apart. If we don't move to consolidate power, the nobles will, and none of us want that." She said nothing in reply, simply turning her head to look back at Talian, whose bruised face was now furrowed in confusion. "Liadrin," Halduron whispered to her, "we have to go._ Now _. You can deal with that later."_

_Her eyes brimmed with tears, and she cursed herself as she turned her head, walking away with Halduron up the main boulevard and back toward Sunfury Spire. She told herself he would understand, that he would accept the distance she needed to put between them right now, and she hated herself for his having to in the first place._

The recollection made Liadrin shove the potions harsher than necessary into the small bag she'd been packing, before quickly glancing around her quarters for anything else she might need. Her mind was only partially occupied with the task at hand, however, the large majority of it wondering how he was doing at this exact moment, and what she could do to help. Her eyes slipped past her suit of armor where it hung on the rack, and onto the weathered traveling cloak on the hook beside it. She stepped across, grabbing it and throwing it around her shoulders before sitting on her bed and pulling on a faded pair of leather boots that hadn't been worn in quite some time. Glancing around the room one more time, she found herself satisfied and turned to leave, passing through the corridors of the Hall of Blood before finding Lor'themar in the map room.

"Ah, Liadrin, I'd been looking for…" he trailed off as he took in her attire, simple leathers and a traveling cloak. She used his pause as an opportunity.

"Yes, Regent Lord? What do you need of me?" He seemed to shake out of his confusion.

"The reports coming in from the various fronts, I need to you collate them and provide your tactical assessment of how many soldiers we can spare to bolster Tranquillien."

"I can do that for you, Lor'themar," Halduron called out quietly as he entered the room. "Liadrin and I have had that conversation before, I know how her mind would work on the topic." Lor'themar turned to greet Halduron, then looked to her. She nodded in confirmation, and the Regent Lord shrugged.

"Very well, thank you, Halduron." She moved to leave the room and he spoke up again. "Also, there's the issue of the few recruits we have in the order who are prime candidates for advancement. I'll need you to provide me a list of—"

"Solanar can handle that, my Lord," she replied quietly. "He handles the inner workings of the order, and brings me a list for approval once he's made his choices. I trim that list as I see fit, and bring it to you. You'll have it in a week's time." Lor'themar nodded again.

"Ah, one more thing," he said as she began to move again, and she stopped in place, her eyes closing in frustration. "We need to send a representative to the noble houses to clarify our need for—"

"I can handle that as well, my Lord," Halduron interrupted quietly. Lor'themar's confused expression flitted between the two of them for a moment, and then the mental arithmetic seemed to add up for him.

"You're going to Tranquillien," he said softly. It was not a question. She looked over to him, her eyes radiating concern, and nodded, once. Lor'themar looked over to Halduron, who only smiled gently to him, then set down the small sheaf of papers he held and pulled a document enclosed with the Regent's seal from within the stack. He crossed back to her, extending it. In glancing at it, she could see it was an official requisition for the dragonhawk flight master outside Silvermoon's gates. "I had planned to give this to whichever of you went to the noble houses; some of them are quite far south, you know." She nodded silently, and he gestured with it. She reached out to take it with a nod of thanks. "I'll have another drawn up for Halduron; give him our best, and our thanks. House Sunvale becomes more valuable an ally to the Spire with each passing day, it seems."

"I will," she replied. "Thank you, Lor'themar." He smiled across to her and nodded as she turned to leave. They stayed silent, the two men in the room, for a few minutes after she'd left, and then Lor'themar sighed audibly.

"Don't start with me," Halduron warned, but the Regent Lord turned to him with a smirk.

"I always thought  _you_  were…you know."

"I was," Halduron replied quietly, refusing to meet his friend's eyes.

"So, what happened?" Lor'themar asked sincerely. Halduron thought for a long moment, then finally shrugged.

"I'm not what she needs," he replied, and Lor'themar nodded after a long moment of thought. The two elves stood there for another moment in silence, and then Lor'themar crossed to his friend and clapped him on the shoulder, getting his eyes to meet his own.

"Drink?" he offered. Halduron chuckled.

"Yea. Drink." Lor'themar smiled, hanging an arm around Halduron's shoulders as they began to walk together from the Hall of Blood.

"You know, Halduron, my dear friend, I really hate to be  _that_  kind of person..." he began with feigned hesitation.

" _Anar'alah_ , here we go," Halduron groaned.

"But, it really  _should_  be 'Yea. Drink. My Lord.' You know, or 'Regent Lord.' Anything fancy like that, really, you can just let your mind go crazy."

Halduron groaned again, a noise that was quickly chased by a laugh from both men that filtered high up and away into the night skies of Silvermoon. In those same skies, just outside the city walls, a dragonhawk, silhouetted against the darkened sky, screeched out as it tore away from the city, flying due south with as much haste as it could muster.


	12. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's an absolute monster of a chapter.  
> No, I don't apologize. :P  
> Enjoy!

**~ 11 ~**

The two wolves circled each other carefully, low growls and the occasional snarl emanating from the small clearing of dead grass and decaying trees. All around them, in every direction and for miles, the landscape spoke of a verdant past now tainted irreparably by the birth of the Scourge. Tall grass, once green and luscious, now stood harsh and brown, swaying in the warm and fetid breeze that listed through the rolling hills and open, fallow fields. In the center of the clearing lay the remains of a young deer, the flesh on its bones already scarce from the lack of grazable land, but the wolves cared not, circling each other and preparing to kill for what few scraps remained. They continued to growl challenges at each other, and just as each seemed ready to pounce, an even deeper sound resonated from the edge of the clearing. It was a low growl, deep enough to have shaken in the guts of any person who had been present for the affair, and both wolves forgot about each other, looking across the clearing to see its owner step forward.

It was a massive bear, covered in a thick, dark brown fur. Its claws were wickedly sharp, and carved deep grooves in the long-ignored earth as it stepped into full view. It's eyes gleamed golden, and around its neck hung a trio of red cords, each holding a series of feathers, intricately-carved runes, and animal bones. It continued to step forward, challenging the wolves, and they backed away slowly, ensuring that they kept both the bear, and the other wolf, in full view. Soon, it was they who stood at the edge of the clearing, and the bear approached the fallen deer, pressing its snout against the flesh of the creature to breathe deeply of its scent. Seemingly satisfied, the bear looked back up, meeting the gaze of each wolf in turn. When it was sure they would not creep back in to challenge it, the bear placed a heavy paw on the deer's neck and reached out with its vice-like jaws to tear off an entire leg of the creature.

It held the limb in its mouth for a moment, then threw its head with great strength, sending the leg hurling through the air to land mere inches in front of one of the wolves. It moved to the deer's hind quarters and did the same with the rear leg, throwing it this time to the other wolf. The bear stepped back and stood silently, watching the both of them as the dark blood that stained its snout dripped sporadically onto the parched earth beneath its paws. Slowly, cautiously, the wolf on its left inched forward, closing its jaws around the haunch of deer and backing away into the forest beyond. Seeing his counterpart, the second wolf promptly followed, and the bear waited a long moment after they left before imploding in a swirl of natural energy.

The tauren stood from his position on all fours to full height, closing his eyes and drawing a deep breath. Each druid's magic left a trace scent to those who knew how to perceive it, and he had long relished what his senses perceived when he shifted. Strong oak, and the smell of a fresh rain washed over him, and he allowed a smile to cross his face for the first time today. He leaned down, hoisting the rest of the deer's carcass up and over his wide shoulder, and began the long trek back towards the Bulwark, examining the land around him as he walked. His Lakota'aru had taken him to many places across Azeroth, from his beloved plains of Mulgore, to the seemingly-cursed lands of Felwood; through the vast emptiness of the Arathi Highlands, and now to here, the plague-desecrated remains of old Lordaeron. He shook his wide head slowly at the latent death that permeated every inch of the land around him, and wished he could do something to stall it at the very least, or reverse it at the very best. Curious, he stopped for a moment, setting the deer onto the ground beside him and kneeling to look closely at a cluster of Fadeleaf trying desperately to bloom from the barren earth. He stroked its petals gently with his thumb and finger, and frowned in dismay as one fell from the plant's stalk simply from his touch.

He muttered under his breath, ancient words of incantation, and the familiar scent washed over him as a verdant green energy encircled his hand, trickling down across his finger and spreading over the surface of the plant. It seemed to drink up the energy as if were fresh rainfall, standing to attention and gaining some color back into its stalk and leaves. He stood, smiling down at it, but the gesture faded when not a moment later, the land seemed to seep the small amount of life he'd given out of it, and it began to droop and die once more. He snorted quietly in irritation, his eyes narrowing, and he turned from the plant, picking up the deer once more and continuing his journey, his heart all the heavier. He had spent the previous five months in these lands, walking the earth as was his calling, and attempting every fool-brained idea he'd come up with to help heal the wound that the dead had inflicted upon it.

All told, he had spent three years walking Azeroth's face, and he missed his mate and children deeply, more so with each passing day. His daughter Shalla he had last seen just over a year prior, during a stopover in Orgrimmar before crossing the sea to walk the Highlands. She had been selected as the Circle's chief trainer of the druidic arts in the city, and he could not have beamed more with pride if he'd actively tried to. His son Kahoru had volunteered to join the Cenarion Expedition in Zangarmarsh, helping to rid the waters there of the foul machinery that Illidan's naga forces had once used in their attempt at domination. The naga themselves had been dealt with by intrepid adventurers, who had even gone so far as to slay their leader and destroy the controlling equipment for all the machines in the area. Now, finally, the land could begin to heal, and his son could not have made his father prouder when he volunteered to be the hand that healed it.

He smiled absently as he thought of Khorra, the sun under which he walked. She had chosen to take a place among the Dreamers, sacrificing years of her waking life to stand ever-protecting the Emerald Dream from those forces that would see it rent asunder. It had been a difficult decision, but among the Circle there was no higher honor than to guard that most sacred place, and their family had spent much time together in saying goodbye before she lay down to sleep. His children had had their own paths to walk, and so he had asked for the blessings and set out on his Lakota'aru shortly after. Two years would yet pass before she awoke from her slumber, and vision of Cenarius or not, he would be there by her side when she did.

A horn in the distance sounded out, pulling him from his memories, and he looked up to see that the time truly had flown past him, the rugged profile of the Bulwark visible just a few hundred yards ahead through the trees. He stepped out onto the main road and held his hand aloft, launching a swirling green ball into the air above his head. It soared through the orange sky before exploding into a shower of white petals, which fluttered and swung in the light breeze as they cascaded down around him. He heard the horn sound again, twice in succession, and knew they had confirmed it was he who approached, and not a Scourge force. When he had covered the rest of the distance, he nodded to the Forsaken commander who manned the gate.

"Hello again, High Executor Derrington," he called out in greeting to the man. His voice was deep, and carried with it the age and dignity of some of the ancient trees under which he slept when he was safely ensconced within the forests of Moonglade.

"Master Whiteleaf," the man called out, nodding to him in welcome. The Forsaken had been an unsettling curiosity to him when he'd first arrived, though he had interacted with a few of them on his way to the plaguelands. They were, after all, the reigning power in these lands, and so he had seen it wise to follow their rules and be diplomatic with them. At first, the terror had seized him; after all, it was the dead who brought such ruin to these lands, and here they stood among him. But he'd quickly learned of their situation and, these days, felt more sympathy than anger towards them. Those at the Bulwark knew him well by now, one of the few wandering adventurers who would regularly bring back usable game from beyond the wall.

"Have you seen Walters?" the tauren asked politely. The Forsaken heaved a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to the south side of the camp, his eyes never leaving the road beyond the wall. The tauren cast his gaze to the south, spying the portly human in the once-white apron covered in bloodstains across the way. "Ah, my thanks," he replied, taking off before Derrington could reply. It wasn't rude, he knew, for the High Executor was a man of few words on a good day, and a man of action on all of them. He crossed through the camp at a slow pace, nodding in greeting to the members of the Argent Dawn who joined the Forsaken in the defense of western Lordaeron, as well as any Forsaken who held him in high enough esteem to notice his passing.

"Rhadani!" the man bellowed as soon as he'd seen him, and the tauren smiled widely as he approached his butcher's block. "Oh my, oh my, what 'ave you brought me today?" He rubbed his hands together in barely-contained glee, and Rhadani chuckled, a deep rumbling within his chest.

"Oh, you know me, Walters. I just gather what the land leaves out." The human laughed, his round belly shaking in delight as he did, and he reached over to help Rhadani lay the deer across the block before twisting his face up in confusion.

"'Ey, look, Rhad," he leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, which Rhadani found amusing since he stood two feet taller than the human, but he bent down to listen nonetheless. "I don't mean to nitpick 'ere, but don't them things usually 'ave  _four_  legs?" Rhadani chuckled deeply as he patted the human on the back with a large hand.

"The balance of nature, my friend. The Earth Mother, and those who walk in her name, must care for  _all_  of her children, not simply those with such a keen eye for detail as you." He smiled when the human looked over, and the man laughed all over again, waving his hands to dismiss his complaint.

"Not a problem, not at all. I'll cook us up a nice stew, I will. Can't go wrong with that!"

"Would you like some assistance?" Rhadani offered, but the man shook his head.

"Absolutely not, ya big lug! You go on over there and find you a card game to join, or a nice tree what to sit under. Whateva' it is you druid-types do. You done the hard work, I imagine I'll manage the rest just fine."

He laughed at the man's insistence, and stepped away, crossing to his favorite tree in the area for a well-deserved nap, the crickets and few owls in the perpetually-twilit area lulling him into a peaceful slumber.

* * *

"Clear, sir!" the guard called out as he emerged from the doorway leading below deck on the passenger ship that sat docked in Stormwind Harbor. The Captain of the patrol that had been sent to inspect the ship nodded sharply to his subordinate, casting a peering glance around all those assembled above-deck; the entire crew of the ship, as well as Vae and Avrena. The two of them leaned casually against the ship's railing, furthest from where the gangplank would lead them down and into the safe obscurity of the crowds that milled around the docks this morning. It had been Vae's idea: the less eager you look to leave, the less suspicious you seem. She remembered how Avrena had nodded so thoughtfully in understanding when she'd explained the plan and the reasoning behind it, and smirked to herself as she watched the Captain. Her eyes moved to look at the other woman unconsciously, and she saw the worried expression on her face. Red flags went up in her mind, and she decided she needed to control the situation very quickly, as the Captain had indeed brought an apprentice mage with him, Vae's worst-case scenario.

"You've never been to Stormwind before, right?" she asked quietly. Beside her, Avrena shook her head wordlessly, her eyes still glued to the patrol's Captain and brimming with worry. "Hey," she called out quietly, "over here." The draenei heard her and seemed to snap out of her trance, turning her head to meet Vae's eyes. "There we go," she cooed across to her, "you just stay right here on me; just talk to me, Avvy." Avrena saw what she was doing and blushed.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. Vae shook her head slightly, a smile still playing over the dark blue features of her draenei illusion.

"Don't be; you're doing great. A few more minutes and we'll be all clear." She squeezed her hand, and Avrena nodded with a smile.

"No, I haven't been. I was excited to see it, but I didn't know how long we planned on staying." Vae looked past her, out at the ocean beyond the harbor, and shook her head slightly.

"Well, last time I was here, the old man said he was going to Light's Hope. So, we'll need to find out where the hell  _that_  is, first of all, then make a plan to get there." She looked back to see Avrena nodding along, but slightly frowning, and she chuckled, pinching her arm to gain her attention. "We'll have time to sightsee, if you like. I sincerely doubt whatever freaks attacked me in the Bay, or a band of pirates, are going to make a move on us in the largest city on Azeroth." Avrena perked up, smiling over at her, but their conversation was interrupted as the Captain moved to stand in front of them.

"Morning, ladies," he said in a gruff rumble.

"Ah, good morning, Captain," Avrena replied, with a bit less tact than Vae would have liked. "I am Avrena, and this is my cousin Ler—" she cut off when the Captain raised up a pleading hand.

"S'alright," he rumbled, "we've got your information from the ship's manifest. Just inspecting bags for anything potentially harmful to Stormwind." Vae looked over to see the blood drain from Avrena's face, then smiled as she handed her knapsack over.

"Of course, Captain," she replied in her best approximation of the accent. He seemed to buy it, taking her bag and opening it to pull out the tome within. It was a brown, leather-bound volume:  _The Histories of the Eastern Kingdoms and the Second War_. The Captain made a noise of recognition and tapped his finger on the cover while looking back at Vae.

"Oh, this is a good one you've got here." She nodded to him with a smile.

"I should hope so, I traded one of my very favorite treatises on crystal shaping and imbuement for it." He chuckled in response, slipping it back into the knapsack and handing it back to her with a rough smile.

"I don't think you'll regret that trade, once you've read it through," he replied, then bowed his head to them both curtly in respect and crossed the deck again, rounding up his soldiers and giving the ship's captain the all-clear to disembark. Vae looked over at Avrena, whose eyes were wider than she'd ever seen, and laughed aloud.

"How…? But he…? You just…?" she stammered her questions as Vae nodded her head towards the gangplank, and led Avrena off the ship with a small thanks and a coin purse for the ship's captain, who barely met her eyes with a muffled word of thanks. They crossed into the crowds, Vae reaching back to take Avrena's hand and guide her through the throngs of people. She felt it squeeze a little tighter than it might have needed to, and smiled as they wandered their way out of the docks and into the Cathedral district. Vae stepped into an alleyway between two buildings and leaned against a wall, folding her arms and looking up at the district's namesake. It stood tall and imposing against the skyline, and from its shining exterior one never would have guessed that she'd only recently scaled its surface. A few moments passed, and Avrena still looked off into nowhere, trying to work out what had just happened. Vaelyth chuckled at her expression just as the hooded figure rounded the far corner of the alley. Halfway along the path, he pushed his cowl back.

"Ah, and there she be, just as promised!" Harlan called to them, and Vae grinned, crossing to him and slinging the bag over her shoulder. He had an exact replica on his own, and held it out for her to take. She offered hers to him, and he held up a hand. "Oh no, lass. Ye can keep that book I gave ye. Fascinatin' the things in there be. Ye'll enjoy it." She twisted up her face in a disbelieving smirk, and he scratched his head. "Alright, maybe ye won't. But that lovely lass will, I tell ye true," he corrected, gesturing to Avrena, who stepped up quickly to take the bag containing the history tome.

"I do love a good book," she said abashedly, and Vae laughed, offering Harlan a small pouch of coin, which he flatly refused.

"Come on, Harlan," Vae protested, "I don't leave a good job unpaid." The old sailor simply laughed in reply.

"And ol' Harlan do no leave two young lasses bare o' coin in such a pricey place as Stormwind." He smiled across to her, and she felt a slight sadness in her chest. She would genuinely miss him, she realized. As if sensing her feelings, he stepped closer to the pair of them, placing a heavy, calloused hand on each of their shoulders. "Now, have a care out here, the both of ye," he cautioned. "Ye watch out fer each other now, do ye hear ol' Harlan?"

"Yes," Avrena whispered, her voice a bit shaky. Vae nodded to him. He smiled then, nodding as he squeezed their shoulders.

"If ye ever be needin' a friendly face," he called out as he began to walk back toward the docks, "ye know where I'll be found." He disappeared a moment later around a corner, and Vae turned to offer her hand to a slightly misty Avrena, who smiled and took it willingly.

They spent the following hours wandering through the city's districts, with Avrena constantly marveling at the architecture or history that lived and breathed in Stormwind's buildings and people. Vae watched her with no small sense of bemusement, but also a slight twinge of envy. When she'd examined Stormwind, all she had looked for were entries and exits, places where guards would be plentiful or sparse, potential choke points in case a fight broke out. She'd cast her eye over the entire city and seen only a potential battleground, an obstacle course to overcome. Avrena saw the same city as a treasure trove of fascinating stories and colorful people, and Vae smiled each time she was awed by something new, squeezing her hand slightly whenever the feeling came over her.

They had a surprisingly relaxing and undisturbed time touring the city together, but after a few hours, Vae began to feel something tingle at the back of her neck. Rhaga had ingrained it in her to never ignore her instincts, and as they walked she cast a wary glance around the crowds, gripping the strap of her bag a bit tighter as Avrena continued to talk in amazement about the things they passed. She saw no threat, but the feeling grew until at last, as they walked through Old Town, she gently grabbed Avrena's arm and guided her smoothly into a side alley, pulling her in front of her body as she leaned flat against the wall near the corner.

"Wha-?" Avrena cried out quietly, and Vae placed a dark blue finger to her lips. Avrena nodded, taking a hesitant step away from her and further into the alley just as a large figure rounded the corner after them. Vae leaped to intercept them, grabbing an arm and twisting it as she slammed them into the brick wall. She drew her blade in a smooth motion, laying the cutting edge against their spine.

"Who are you?" she growled before taking in the sight. The reason for the person's large frame was readily apparent. He was a draenei, the muscles in his arm flexing in pain from how she'd pinned him. His dark blue hair crested above his head and fell to halfway down his back, and his horns reached out to the sides of his head, making him almost resemble a blue tauren in appearance. His tail had gone completely limp in fear, and the one of his glowing eyes that wasn't pressed into the wall was wide in shock.

"Ah…ah…!" he stammered, still too shocked to respond.

"Oh, by the Light," Avrena said quietly. "Hokuul?" Even pressed against the wall, the draenei chuckled, the gesture turning into a small coughing fit.

"Avrena!" he called out as Vae backed off and sheathed her blade. "I had thought it might be you, but I could not believe my eyes!" He turned to look at Vae, seeing her draenei form, and his face twisted up in confusion. "Ah, I am sorry if I frightened you, sister. I…do not believe we have met. I am Hokuul," he greeted her with a slight bow, wringing his wrist out where she'd pinned him as he spoke. "I have known Avrena since we were but little children."

"Ah," Vae replied, working much harder on her accent now that she had to fool a native. "I apologize for my hasty behavior, Hokuul. The Light knows it is dangerous beyond the shores of Azuremyst." He nodded in agreement with her, and she breathed an internal sigh of relief as she bowed to him in return. "I am Leraana; Avrena and I recently met in Darnassus and decided it would be better to travel together." He smiled in response.

"Well, I am relieved to see that she has such a skilled warrior to travel with! You are correct in what you say, Leraana," he said, regarding them both. "Guards patrol these streets every day, and every day there is good reason for them to do so!" She nodded in reply, and a small silence fell between them before he cried out in realization. "Ah! But where are my manners! I have been here in Stormwind for many months now, working the forges alongside humans and dwarves, and you are newcomers to the city! Come, I will show you the best place in Old Town for a good meal and a drink. You both look as if you could use it!" He chuckled as he finished, and Vae caught Avrena shooting her a disconcerted look. She wasn't sure what the problem was, but they didn't exactly have a quick out.

"We would be very thankful, Hokuul," she replied, and he smiled at her before waving for them to follow him. Avrena fell into step beside her, and Vae looked over to share a private glance with her. "What?" she whispered, as they exited the alley and the ringing of hammers on anvils and large grinding wheels turning rushed over to conceal their quiet conversation. Avrena looked at her with a pained expression, then shook her head.

"Nothing," she whispered. She closed her eyes for a moment, seeming to force a smile onto her face as she looked back across to Vae. "I'm hungry, is all." Vae laughed under her breath as she shook her head.

"You're lucky you're pretty," she whispered back across as Hokuul explained the workings of one of the larger forges in the area to them, "because you're a  _terrible_  liar." Avrena's face blushed, whether from the compliment or being called out for her lie, Vae wasn't sure, and they followed Hokuul the rest of the way to the tavern in silence save for the occasional response to one of his statements. After a few minutes of winding streets and long, one-sided conversation, they arrived at a small, nondescript tavern in a corner of the district. The atmosphere was warm and comfortable, with a few tables scattered about the main serving area, and a roaring fire in the large hearth on the far wall. Hokuul waved to a small woman behind the serving counter as he entered, and she seemed to beam back at him, offering a wave of her own. He led them to a small table in the corner and they sat together, Vae taking note of how Avrena tucked her legs in and taking a seat with her back to the wall; old habits from the Bay died hard, she supposed.

"So!" Hokuul exclaimed quietly as they all got comfortable, "Avrena, it seems like it's been forever. How have you been?"

Avrena smiled over to him, but Vae continued to watch her out of the corner of her eye. Avrena's earlier expressions had confused her, and she was sure there was some piece of information she didn't have that would make her friends' reactions perfectly reasonable. "Just fine," she replied. "Father has been continuing to work in his shop at Azure Watch; it seems more young draenei come through with each passing day looking for armor and weapons."

"Ah, but not you, yes?" he replied with a soft chuckle, tapping a finger to the side of his head. "Your weapon was always here, I think." Vae laughed quietly at the gesture, and Hokuun shot her a grin. When she looked over to Avrena, she saw her nodding along in agreement, her cheeks slightly flushed.

"Yes," she said quietly. "I wanted to explore the world for a bit, and see what I could do for the Alliance, kind as they were to take us in after the crash." She smiled over to Vae. "Then I met Leraana in Darnassus, and we took a ship here to Stormwind." She shook her head softly in apology. "I'm afraid my journeys have only just started, Hokuul. I do not have much to tell." He nodded his head in understanding just as the serving woman came over to them and took their orders.

"Moongraze tenderloin?" Avrena asked in shock as she perused the menu. Hokuul laughed aloud.

"Ah, you have found why I return so often to this place! Yes, they import it from Azuremyst just to be the one restaurant in Stormwind who can offer it to our people. I hear tell that they have magi in their employ specifically for keeping the meat fresh, as it arrives by portal!" Avrena seemed to brighten up at that news, at least, and Vae followed her lead, ordering one as well. A few minutes later, their meal came, and Vae found herself pleasantly surprised. She made a mental note to come back to this place if she were ever in Stormwind again; maybe if she were lucky she could get Maerik to use a room here for his drunken portals instead of that shit-hole in the Mage District. Once they'd finished, Hokuul folded his arms on the table, shaking his head at Avrena. "I still cannot believe you are here, Avrena."

"You seem very fond of Avrena, Hokuul," Vae offered, and he nodded while smiling at her.

"When we were younger, we spent much time together in the Exodar. I was the apprentice of one of our greatest smiths, and Avrena had just been chosen to join the ranks of the Magi. One of her first tasks was to learn the proper way of enchanting the weapons our soldiers would carry into battle. We spent many hours by the heat of the forge, working together to create valuable weapons for our people." He smiled fondly across the table, and a flare of dull anger spouted up inside Vae's chest. It caught her off-guard, and she leaned back from the table for a moment, staring away in thought. When she shook off the feeling, Hokuul was describing the process by which draenic crystal could be shaped into the metalwork of a weapon, and her eyes looked across to Avrena. Her friend seemed to be able to read her mind, or at the very least saw her contending with the strange feeling in her chest, because her expression was pained embarrassment.

"Excuse me," Avrena mumbled, as she stood from the table, leaving without meeting Vae's eyes to refill the empty cup she held at the counter. Hokuul watched her as she left, then chuckled as he turned back to Vae.

"She gets bored when I talk about my work," he offered in explanation, though Vae knew that wasn't the reason. "She always has."

"I feel as though there is some other connection between you two," Vae ventured carefully, "but I cannot quite place what it is." His face twisted up in a confused smile.

"Oh, I apologize, Leraana," he said with a short chuckle. "I thought she had perhaps told you about me before. For the longest time, we were to be wed. Avrena was to come with me to Stormwind, but when the day came for us to depart, she was nowhere to be found."

"Oh?" Vae answered weakly. The bottom of her stomach had seemed to drop out, and something felt very wrong inside her gut. She tried to push the feeling aside, but it threatened to just make her cry in retaliation, so she allowed it to stay, fighting past it to continue the casual conversation. Hokuul didn't seem to notice, looking over his shoulder again to where Avrena stood near the counter waiting for the woman to return. After a moment, he turned back to her, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"Oh yes," he began. "There were a large amount of ideas and theories about what happened, but most people believe her father secreted her away to Teldrassil at her urging. He is a good man, you see, but he will do _anything_ she asks of him." He shrugged his large shoulders, drinking deeply from his mug before setting it down. "I had not seen her since that day, so you can imagine my surprise earlier!" He laughed a bit, and she smiled sympathetically, pausing for a moment before speaking.

"You…seem very collected about the whole situation." Hokuul smiled brightly.

"Well of course I am, Leraana. Don't you understand? Avrena has been missing for months, and re-appears here in Stormwind after all this time?" He paused to let her figure it out, but she merely shrugged at him in reply. "She has come back to accept my proposal!" He whispered excitedly to her, and she felt her eyes widen.

"I'm…not entirely sure if—" she tried to speak, but he cut her off with a wave of his hand.

"Oh, she will act coy and shy for a while longer, I expect," he said with a small laugh, "but she will soon make her intentions quite clear. Ah, so much planning I will have to do. Oh!" he looked over his other shoulder at the large clock against the wall and said something in his native tongue that she didn't understand. His gaze flicked between Avrena and the clock for a long moment before he put a hand on Vae's shoulder. The touch shocked her, and she jumped slightly. "I am expected back at the forge. Could you please tell Avrena that it was lovely to see her, and that I look forward to talking with her while she is in the city?" He winked at Vae, and her gut rumbled in that same dull, unknown anger, but she put on the nicest smile she could muster and nodded. He clapped her shoulder again as he stood "Thank you, Leraana.  _Archenon poros_ , sister." He cast one last look at Avrena's back and rushed out of the tavern, wrapping a cloak around his wide shoulders as he did.

Vae sat in stunned silence for a long moment, her eyes looking over and finding Avrena's back at the counter. She already had her refill, Vae could see, and yet she stayed standing there, slightly hunched over it. Vae sighed lightly, grabbing her own cup and pushing her chair away from the table with a boot disguised as a hoof, then crossed the room to step up next to her at the bar. "And I thought  _I_  had a reason to never come to Stormwind," she quipped as she approached. Avrena only shook her head softly, and when Vae leaned forward to see her face, she saw the two small lines of tears that traced down her cheeks. "Woah, hey," she called out softly, reaching out a hand to rub Avrena's back. "What's wrong? Is it Hokuul?" Avrena stayed silent, shrugging before nodding gently. Vae glanced out the door he'd exited a moment ago, then shrugged. "You want me to kill him?" Avrena's head whipped over to look at her wide eyed, and she laughed aloud at the look on her face, holding her hands up in mock surrender. "I'm just offering options, here." Avrena sighed, her shoulders slumping.

"It is not so much  _him_ , but…I do not know, Vae. I did not want to upset you when you found out." Vae's face twisted up in confusion.

"Upset me? What, because you were engaged without your approval and didn't like it, so you ran off to live in the woods until a psychotic elf found you?" She snorted a laugh, and Avrena let out a pained one as well when she turned to look at the lopsided grin plastered across Vae's face. "Avvy, if anything, I'm impressed." Avrena laughed quietly again, wiping the tears from her face and smiling over at her. In an instant, her face seemed to relax again, and she slipped into a yawn that she quickly covered with her hand. "Worn out?" Vae asked, and she nodded in reply. "Yea, me too. Guess here's as good a spot as any."

Vae waved over the woman who had served them before and paid for a room for the night. She and Avrena took the stairs up to the top floor and found their room at the end of a long hall. It was a cozy space, but still extravagant compared to their cabin on the ship, with one large window that looked out over Old Town. The room had two generously-sized beds with a small table at the side of each, and a soft blue rug laid out across the wooden floorboards. Avrena entered first, crossing to ignite the small lamp on the desk as evening began to fall on the city outside their window. Vae closed the door behind her and locked it, hanging her bag from a small hook on the wall. Just to be sure, she checked once more within its folds, seeing the gilding on the tome's surface glinting in the lantern light, and nodded approvingly. She turned to make for her bed and almost jumped back, as Avrena stood right next to her. The draenei laughed at her shock, then reached out to her, taking the chain of her mother's necklace from around Vae's neck and guiding it over her ears and head. Vae's features softly reverted, and she held out and arm, happy to see her own soft pink skin once more. She looked up and met Avrena's expectant smile with one of her own.

"There you are," Avrena said softly, and something fluttered inside Vae's chest.

"Did you start to forget what I looked like?" she replied with a coy smile. Avrena giggled in response, shaking her head softly.

"Not at all. You make quite the lovely draenei, but a much prettier elf." Vae's cheeks flushed and she scoffed as she brushed past Avrena, who laughed again at the gesture before placing the necklace on the small table beside her bed. They both got ready for sleep in relative silence, and when they climbed into their separate beds, Vae settled in for her first restful sleep in a long while. It wasn't that she couldn't sleep on ships, she thought, they just didn't give  _good_  sleep. She had relished those wonderful "first nights back" from being on a ship, where she would fall asleep quickly, dream vividly, and wake late in the day fully refreshed and ready to carouse at a tavern with her team. And so, it both confused and frustrated her when no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't fall asleep. She lay on her side cursing her racing mind, staring over at the wall, and counting the number of lines she could see in its wood grain, when she heard a soft rustling from across the room.

"Avvy?" she whispered quietly, not wanting to wake her if she'd simply been tossing in her sleep. A moment passed without a reply, and Vae shrugged to herself, resolved to continue her counting until her brain gave up and shut off. A few seconds later, however, she felt the blankets behind her being pulled up and away, followed by the warmth of Avrena's body pressing up against her back. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she found a smile making its way to her lips nonetheless. Avrena lay still for a moment, unsure if she was welcome, and Vae pressed back into her lightly until she heard the draenei breathe a sigh of relief. Her arm draped over Vae's waist, and she could feel her warm breath rustling the loose strands of her white hair against the pillow. A long moment of comfort passed between them before Avrena spoke.

"I…couldn't sleep alone," she whispered. Vae gently took her hand, rubbing her thumb in circles over her light blue palm and earning a small groan of relief from behind her. Vae smiled as she replied.

"Couldn't? Or didn't want to?" she whispered back over her shoulder with a grin. She heard Avrena scoff in mock offense, but a few seconds later felt the press of her forehead against her shoulder blades.

"Both," she answered. Vae took her arm in reply, pulling it tighter around her and squeezing it gently for a moment.

"Neither could I," she assured her in reply.

* * *

_"If I'm being entirely honest with you, I'd have been inclined to give you credit for the deceitful plot, if you hadn't ruined it so spectacularly with what can only be described as an appalling attempt at counterfeiting." Caresian Sunvale shook his head slightly in disappointment as he walked beside his eldest son. Talian, for his part, did not reply, choosing instead to stare blankly ahead. The ropes that bound his wrists behind his back bit into the skin there, and he shoved the pain from his mind, already planning the next thing he would do to infuriate his father and undermine his leadership of the House. He had heard from a few loose-lipped friends he'd had in Silvermoon that Farstrider Retreat had needed an ammunition re-supply for a long while now; perhaps he could raise a false alarm that would force the barracks to over-stock their—_

_"Caresian," his mother called out quietly as she fell into step beside her father, interrupting Talian's train of thought. Caresian's frown only deepened then, and he gave her a look that brooked no argument for the punishment he was about to deliver. "_ Must _this be a public affair?"_

_"We discussed this, Eriyana," his father practically growled across to her. "I will not have one of the Sunvale under my charge undermining this house or its leadership. I have punished others in this manner before, and I am sure I shall again before all is said and done."_

_"I'm not suggesting you pardon the crime," she replied quickly as they walked, shooting a glare over to her son. "Only that the punishment be conducted in private. This isn't some lowly member of the House; this is our son, Caresian." Were the circumstances any less dire, Talian could have laughed at the whole ridiculous thing. His mother had less of a spine than some of the jellyfish he'd seen washed up on the eastern beaches in the heat of summer, and watching her attempt to invoke one now was comical at best. He knew better than to think she cared about him in all this; the only things Eriyana Sunvale truly cared for were her own pride and vanity. She had married into ladyship to impress her siblings, she had left her sons to be raised by attendants as she visited with other noblewomen and made appearances at grand Silvermoon galas, and she dutifully followed her husband's orders, regardless of what that meant for anyone else. There had been a time when Talian had gritted his teeth and wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her until she saw reason, but it had long since passed, instead now replaced with an intense apathy and emotional disconnection. She, his mother, was no more important to him than anyone else. Liadrin had nearly cried when he'd told her so months ago, and he supposed he understood why, what with her own past. Still, it was the truth of the matter, and he didn't shy away from it._

_Liadrin. The thought of her glided across the surface of his mind, and he clutched at it. He saw her beautiful face, her inviting eyes, and thought back to the last time he'd seen her; just this morning. She had advanced in the priesthood, gaining a new level of responsibility and respect as she took more and more upon her shoulders and had been recognized for it. In celebration, he'd offered to buy her breakfast, and wouldn't take no for an answer when he insisted he pay for it. She'd been reluctant to spend his money on herself, but had shown up nonetheless to the quiet shores of Stillwhisper Pond. It had been a short walk for her from the gates of Silvermoon, and a brief ride for him, but he'd arrived early. He had spent the time stealing into the city and purchasing her favorite pastries from the baker who gave him a knowing wink as he paid, and a raspberry tea that had always put a smile on her face from one of his contacts who did business in Loch Modan, often being given entire sacks of the leaves in thanks for making the journey. Her face when she had seen what he'd done for her was one he would never forget, and for a moment he had sworn he'd seen tears in her eyes. Their time had been lovely, and full of laughter as it always seemed to be these days, and when he'd mounted Adarien to ride back to the Enclave, he had smiled when he saw her toying with the necklace he'd given her years ago. His heart had nearly exploded, but the happiness was short-lived, as they'd all been waiting for him when he rode back through the Dawngate._

_The backside of his father's hand caught him completely off-guard as it struck like iron across the side of his face, ripping him from the memory, and he stumbled to the side for a minute before being indelicately righted by one of the grim-faced guards that flanked behind him. He turned to glare at Caresian, receiving only a smug smile of satisfaction in response. "I said," his father began pointedly, "what the hell have you got to smirk about?" Talian drew his eyes away and back to the forward, biting back several scathing retorts he very much wanted to voice. He ran his tongue over the teeth in his mouth and felt them all still secure, but tasted no small amount of blood, and made his face a neutral mask again. "Good boy," his father stung at him quietly, and his mother shook her head with a huff, peeling off from them to return to the manor house. Her pride may well have been about to be damaged, but she would be damned if she were actually seen in attendance for it._

_Two large wooden posts had been erected in the center of the village square, each with an eyehole carved about two-thirds the way up their height. Both guards stepped forward then, securing two long ropes to the bindings that already held him fast, and then feeding the other ends of the ropes through the holes. They stood outside the two posts, and his father reached with a leg to kick out the back of Talian's knees, dropping him unceremoniously to the ground between the posts. He signaled to the guards, who pulled the ropes taut, holding his arms up and away from his body. He grunted at the pain that flared in his wrists, but raised his head to look forward. He refused to be broken by this, refused to let Caresian win in any way. His eyes stared forward, into the large crowd of Sunvale residents who had been ordered to attend the public display. The vast majority of their faces held scowls for him, or slight shakes of their heads that displayed their deep disappointment in the heir apparent's actions. But directly across from him, standing intentionally in his immediate line of sight, stood Kalos._

_His brother's face was a steel mask, but Talian could see the concern radiating from his eyes. The guard pulled the ropes even tighter, earning another muffled grunt from Talian, and Kalos stepped forward impulsively. Talian glared across at him, shaking his head ever so slightly, and the elf retracted the step. They held each other's gaze for a long moment, and Kalos lifted a single finger to point at his own eye. Talian understood, and nodded slightly in response. A moment later, his father circled around in front of him, folding his arms behind his back as he spoke to the crowd._

_"Sunvale Enclave stands alone among the noble houses, independent and self-sufficient," he called out to them as he stared down to meet his son's ferocious glare. Around him, they cheered. "We are the true legacy of our people; those who remained strong, who remained proud, and who did not allow themselves to grow soft in the green forests and golden towers!" Another roar of approval, even louder than the last, rose and fell at his words. "When one of us is deceived, or betrayed,_ all _of us are," he said, quietly, and paused for a moment before turning to address them all directly. "As your Lord, it is my duty to affirm that slights against this house will not be tolerated. Not by any enemy, whether from without," he turned back to his son, "or within." He paused again, then pointed down to him. "Talian Sunvale, you have been charged by the House with the theft of militia equipment, and the unlawful trade of said equipment to our rivals. Do you deny it?"_

_"No," he replied, still holding his father's gaze with all the defiance he could muster. His arms ached in their restraints, and sweat beaded on his brow, running down his face and stinging his eyes, but he did not shy from the challenge. Caresian nodded once._

_"You have been given many opportunities to name accomplices, and thus lessen your sentence. This will be your last. Name them, and I will be lenient." Talian shook his head, a round of jeers and booing coming from the assembled crowd. His father's eyes burned down into his own, and he turned to look across the crowd at Kalos for a long moment before meeting Talian's eyes once again._

_"Then the charge is ten lashes, may the scars remind you of your transgressions against this great and noble house, and its Lord." He held out his left hand and waited. The Sunvale were ingrained from an early age to both accept punishment for any transgressions they caused, but also to thank the one who punished them to show that the convicted knew he had erred, and did not fault the man or woman who carried out the punishment. Talian looked down at the signet ring his father wore as Lord of the house, glaring into its gleaming surface. He looked across to Kalos, who only shook his head silently, then to his father, who wore that damned smirk on his face. Talian let his gaze fall back to the offered ring, reared back, and spit a viscous mixture of saliva and blood onto the back of his father's hand. The crowd immediately erupted in gasps of outrage and shock, and Caresian's hand shot forward, clutching him around the throat as he snarled into his son's face. "Twenty lashes, then. Enjoy them, you miserable little shit." He threw him backwards, and the guards on either side of him pulled their ropes taut once more. He looked back to Kalos, held his gaze as his brother had instructed him to. He would not cry out, he would not scream, and he knew Caresian would be all the angrier that night for having not heard his anguish._

_The first blow landed across his bare back, snapping against his flesh and sending pain scattering throughout his body. He lurched forward under the weight of the hit, and snapped his head back up immediately to meet his brother's eyes. The second whipped across his flesh, and he grunted at the effort of retaining his screams, even as he felt blood begin to trickle down his back. He held Kalos' eyes through the entire ordeal, but he wasn't seeing his brother. As each strike landed to a roar from the crowd, all he saw in his mind was a quiet morning by Stillwhisper Pond, with a woman for whom he'd endure any number of lashes. He held on admirably, enduring each blow with only a grunt or a wince of pain, but by the fourteenth, his body began to shut itself down under the stress of internalizing the pain. He felt the fifteenth land just as his mind slipped away, the sweet black of unconsciousness rushing up to claim him as his body lurched forward in agony._

The darkness receded, and Talian shifted uncomfortably as he stirred awake, his back screaming at him in the phantom pain that his dream of the past had invoked. His eyes opened slowly, as if held down with weights, and the simple exertion of opening them seemed to drain every bit of energy he had. His vision was a clouded haze, with a light red tinging the edges of his field of view. Pain radiated in waves from his arm, and he recalled his fight with the spider lord, turning his head where it rested to inspect the damage done. The moving shot fresh tendrils of agony through his neck, and he groaned reflexively, the sound emanating from the back of his throat, which burned with the effort. His eyes closed again to fight it off, but slid back open when he felt the soft touch of the hand that pressed against his own.

Through the haze, he made out the rough leather of a regular traveler, and saw the profile of a woman, but her face was indiscernible. He felt her hand squeeze his slightly, and she stood from her seated position on the edge of his bed, crossing to the large door that led to the chamber and closing it quietly. She locked it as well, placing the key on a small wooden chest of drawers beside the door. He watched her move in a clouded slow-motion as she pulled off her cloak, hanging it from a hook on the opposite wall, and crossed back over to sit on the bed. Now uncovered, he could see the shape of her face, the color of her hair, and with the way her hand immediately returned to his, he had all the information he needed.

"Liadrin," he whispered, or tried to whisper. What came out instead was a hoarse, unintelligible rasp, and his throat seared with pain as he made the sound.

"Shh," she whispered down to him. "Yes, I'm here, but I need you to not speak, Talian. The venom isn't being slowed by the antidote they gave you, though it should have been. The Forsaken's commander here has been kind enough to lend us her best alchemist; he's looking at a sample that the Deathguards brought back from Suncrown now, but they say it's a type of nerubian venom they haven't seen before, and…" she trailed off, looking back to the door for a long moment, deep in thought, before meeting his eyes once again. Even through his clouded and reddened vision, he could make out the pain in her features. He willed his hand to close tighter around hers, and saw her look down at it for a moment before composing herself. "You don't have that kind of time," she continued quietly. "They…they're amazed that you're still alive at all, given your condition." She shook her head slowly, looking down into his eyes with a weak smile and a sharp, sad laugh. "But they don't know you like I do, hmm? Silvermoon, Quel'Thalas, House Sunvale…they wouldn't make it without you, without…everything you do. And to be honest…I don't think I would, either." His brain pushed at him to slip away into unconsciousness once more, and he struggled against it, taking in her words and gripping her hand tighter in response. She smiled down at his hand and patted it once with her other. When she looked up again, her expression was concerned, and grave. "I'm going to…try something to help you, Talian. But I need you to trust me."

He met her eyes, seeing for certain now the small tears that hung there, the slight shadow beneath them that told him this wasn't the first time today she'd wept, and he raised a trembling hand, ignoring the fire that raced along his skin, and pressed his palm flat against her chest. He had hoped he would find it there, and so he smiled slightly when he could feel the metal outline through her shirt, the small dragonhawk pressing into his flesh. She covered his hand with her own and nodded down to him before resting his arm gently back down onto the bed.

She stood then, and retrieved an old tome from the end table beside his bed. He saw the dull red color of the faded leather that bound it, and recognized it immediately. It was her personal tome, or rather her father's, and his father's before him; Liadrin had once told him that her family had been completely unsure of just how long the book had been passed down through their lineage, but she had vowed to keep the tradition alive when she had discovered it among the few things she'd managed to grab in a panic when fleeing the trolls. She kept it on her always; a reminder of what she'd lost, and what she fought for now. She opened it slowly, turning to a specific page and holding out her hand over the open book. Slowly, softly, small tendrils of holy energy lifted from the page, tracing their way through the air to brush against her fingertips. She muttered some words he couldn't hear, and the tendrils surged, swirling around her entire hand and bathing her skin in a golden glow.

A moment later, she faltered, taking a short step backwards to balance herself after receiving some unseen and painful blow, and he reached out, his arm shaking, to help steady her. She saw the gesture, and took a step away from him as the light around her hand continued to grow and pulse in power. Talian looked up into her eyes, and saw their normal green color replaced by the same golden, glowing light. She moved her mouth to continue speaking the ancient words that drove the spell, and he could see light emanating from the back of her throat as well. It surged around her entire body now, burned from within and without, and she closed the tome gently, placing it back on the stand with some difficulty before stepping back over to the bed. She put one knee onto the mattress and swung the other over his body, straddling him as she looked down and placed her palms on his chest.

"This is probably going to hurt, Talian," she told him. Her voice had been meant to be quiet and concerned, he could tell from the tone of her words, but the Light added an ethereal reverberation to it, and it sounded almost emotionless, a hollow, haunting voice that sent a chill running up his spine. He saw her staring down at him, waiting for him to acknowledge her warning, and he lifted his hands with great effort, placing them atop her own on his chest. She shut her eyes, and pressed down into him.

An incredible force slammed into his chest, as if he'd stood in front of a cannon, and he felt himself shoved violently backwards from, and out of, his own body. He crashed to the floor underneath the bed, and scrambled to his feet, backing away from it in a panic. He stood quickly, his back to one of the stone walls of the chamber, and stared with wide eyes as he looked upon his own body, lying in the bed, and Liadrin's form crouched over it. A corona of holy energy surrounded them both, ensconcing them in a constantly-flowing sphere of light. He looked down at his hand, seeing a golden, translucent version of it, and as his mind began to panic, he heard the quiet sound of chimes trickle faintly into his consciousness. It sounded as though a gentle breeze had rustled them from somewhere just out of sight, and when he raised his eyes once more, he saw it.

It hung in mid-air, just beyond the foot of the bed, an amalgamation of indistinct pieces and shapes held together by the perfect light that comprised the rest of its form. It moved slowly, each individual piece of its being seeming to bob gently in time with the others. He had never traveled to Outland, had never visited the Exodar where the draenei made their home, but he knew the creature he was seeing must have been one of the Naaru. His mouth fell open of its own accord; the descriptions he'd been given of them, some by Liadrin herself, hadn't done them justice. The chimes in his head continued to sound, and though he knew they were not words, his mind somehow began to translate them into intelligible thoughts. The being communicated telepathically, brushing Talian's mind with its own, and he stared at it wide-eyed as he listened.

" _Her immense drawing upon the Light called my curiosity to this place, but now I understand. Yes, you are the one I have seen,_ " it chimed quietly inside his mind. He wasn't sure whether to think or speak a response, and he shook his spectral head, taking a few steps closer to the being of pure light.

"I…I don't know what you mean," he replied. "I don't believe we've met…" He heard a chiming inside his head in response that he intrinsically knew was laughter, and the light around the Naaru pulsed a bit brighter for a moment.

" _We have not, and yet I know you, Talian. I am called K'iru by your kind."_ Talian perked up at the Naaru's words.

"I know that name," he replied. "Liadrin spoke of you, she said you watched over them during the Sunwell's reclamation." A series of chimes his mind interpreted as a warm smile washed over him.

" _Yes,_ " K'iru replied. " _I aided your people there against the Legion, and I heard Liadrin's whispered prayers to the Light. I watched as she strode into battle, her head held high, but her heart plagued with concern."_  Talian looked to where he saw her form above his own body. She breathed heavily with exertion, the Light flowing all around her as she closed her eyes in desperation.

"I wish I'd been there with her," he replied quietly. The naaru laughed once more in his mind, and his face twisted up in confusion as he looked over to it again.

" _You were,"_  K'iru said simply. " _I have seen you in her mind. The minds of mortals are fascinating to us. The way they can focus on a thousand things at once, the seeming ease with which they make incredibly significant decisions,"_ it paused for a moment, bobbing in place. " _Their incredible capacity for sacrifice when protecting those for whom they care deeply."_

"Sacrifice?" he questioned, a concerned frown sliding onto his face as he looked over to Liadrin's form. She knelt, her knees on either side of him, and he could see the pain she endured in her expression. More than that, in his current form, he could… _feel_ …the Light swirling around her, the very essence of her life. He reached out slowly, brushing a finger against the orb of light that encased the pair of them. Instantly, a memory flashed through his mind, a young girl laughing as her father mercilessly tickled her stomach. He felt the joy in her heart, the warmth she felt for her father even as he tormented her. He pulled his hand back quickly, jarred and confused at the experience.

"This isn't any holy power I've ever heard of…" he whispered, the question apparent with his tone. The chimes came once more to his mind in reply.

" _It both is, and is not,"_  K'iru said solemnly. " _She channels the Light only to open the door. The ritual she performs now is not one of your kind, but something older. From a darker time, when the Light was as much feared as respected."_

Talian watched the glowing orb swirl a bit more, then reached out to touch it again. A second memory flared in front of his eyes; it was Liadrin again, older now, sitting in her Silvermoon priestess' quarters. Her head was in her hands as she sobbed, and his heart was assaulted by the feelings of her sorrow, the pain of having lost everything she'd held dear. His hand snapped back as the powerful emotions threatened to overwhelm him, and he shook his head before looking back to the Naaru.

"What…what is she doing?" he trailed off, seeing the hardened concentration on Liadrin's face.

" _She pleads with the ancient Light,"_ K'iru replied, the chimes quieter now in Talian's head. He looked to the Naaru and could almost feel the reverence it held for her actions, then returned his gaze to Liadrin. He wanted to reach out, to brush her cheek, but when he moved his arm, the Naaru chimed in warning, seeming to read his thoughts.

" _If you break her concentration, the spell will fail,"_ it whispered. " _Your life now hangs on its success, young one."_  He looked over to where the door stood locked, and fully understood her previous actions. She had come concealed, to avoid anyone demanding her time at an inopportune moment. She had locked the door, to physically bar anyone who might interrupt her. She had planned this since the moment she arrived in Tranquillien. His eyes sought her out again, and his tone grew terrified.

"What  _exactly_  is she doing?" he asked quietly, but forcefully. K'iru bobbed up and down where it hung in place, and a silence fell between them for a moment before it replied.

" _She trades her own life for yours,"_  it chimed, the sadness that tinged the sound readily apparent in Talian's mind. " _She gives in offering to the ancient Light years of her own life, and in exchange begs to receive the power to burn the toxins from your veins."_

"No…" he whispered, staring back into her eyes as she focused on his broken body beneath her. "She can't…there has to be another way; she said the alchemists are working on a solution. I can resist it for as long as it takes. She's far more important than I am, K'iru; you have to stop this!"

" _I can sense the corruption within your form, young one. Though your tenacity is admirable, your time is certainly short."_  Talian shook his head, reaching out again to stop her, but halting when his fingers touched the orb. The memory flared inside his mind, an image of her in the flowing robes of the priesthood, standing beside Stillwhisper Pond. He saw through her eyes his own horse, with him atop it, riding away down the road. He turned in the saddle to smile and wave back at her, and she did the same in reply as her fingers played with the hammered silver dragonhawk on the chain she wore. He felt her emotions then, a fiery tempest of affection, of respect, of desire. He felt the waves of love for him course through her, and it staggered his spectral form. He stepped backwards unconsciously, and the warmth of the Naaru brushed against his mind once more.

" _Do you understand now why she chooses this path?"_  it asked quietly. He shook his head as he looked down, flexing his hand at the shock of what he'd felt.

"I never thought…" he trailed off, looking back up and staring at her determined face with all new perspective. His train of thought was interrupted as the orb of light around them surged, glowing brighter and brighter, until the illumination inside of the previously dimly-lit chamber now resembled that of the desert at mid-day.

" _Her offering is accepted, the ritual is nearing completion,"_ K'iru whispered to him. " _It is time for you to leave this realm, young one. Return to her. Return to the one who gives of herself to see you whole, and remember what you saw in the deepest recesses of her memory. Seldom few have the opportunity to see others as we do."_  Talian looked at the being once more and nodded in thought. The Light seemed to crackle for an instant, and Talian slammed his eyes shut and held up an arm to shield himself from the glare as the golden orb around them erupted in a blinding flash of light, the holy radiance in Liadrin's eyes and mouth burning out as it did.

Talian's eyes snapped open, the haze and red tinge clouding everything once more, and he gasped at the pain in his body, pulling air into his lungs as if he'd never felt its presence there before. Above him, Liadrin's face brightened with surprise, and she continued to press against his chest, even as his hands closed tightly in a panic around her wrists.

"I know!" she whispered down to him, her voice thick with concern. "I know it hurts! It's almost over, I promise." Fire surged through his chest, seeming to scorch every vein in every limb he possessed. He felt as though he'd been dipped into a lake of lava as the holy inferno raged throughout his body. He gritted his teeth, biting back a roar of pain as he held her gaze. She didn't look away, instead staring her support and confidence in him through her green eyes as the burning within him slowly, ever so slowly, began to recede. After a moment that felt like years, he saw his vision clear of the reddened haze that had encroached upon it, and felt the layered pain rise out of his muscles. Above him, Liadrin shook with the exertion, her hands trembling as they supported her weight on his chest. He released her wrists, sliding his hands up her arms and holding her shoulders.

"Liadrin…" he whispered up to her, his voice free of the hollow rasp and his throat no longer seizing in pain at the spoken word. She took heaving breaths, sweat dripping in infrequent beads from her forehead and landing on his shirt below, but she smiled when he called up to her. She moved one hand from his chest slowly, and the exhaustion hit her like a wall, her arms buckling and sending her collapsing on top of him. He scrambled in response, moving to the side as he turned his body to lay her on her back. "Liadrin? What's wrong? What's happening?" His eyes moved across her body, looking for any injuries she might have sustained, but stopped when she reached over to squeeze his hand.

"It's fine," she said, the weariness apparent in her voice as she looked up at him. "Just…need to recover. It should pass in a moment." He leaned over her, brushing her cheek with his thumb, and she smiled, closing her eyes.

"No, it's not fine…" he whispered, and she opened them again, meeting his with concern. "Your drawing on the Light brought a Naaru to watch. An old acquaintance of yours, apparently."

"K'iru…" she whispered, and he nodded. She smiled, looking to a far wall in the chamber. "I should have known she wouldn't be able to stay away."

"She?" Talian asked, arcing an eyebrow in confusion. Liadrin looked back at him to see it and chuckled as she pushed herself to sit up on the bed. He put a hand on her back to help her, and she smiled to him in response before shrugging.

"No one really knows, so we just guess based on personality." He nodded in understanding, moving the hand on her back to her shoulder and squeezing gently.

"We were…hidden, in some kind of spirit realm, but she told me what you were doing. And…the price you paid." He looked away for a moment, and she covered his hand with her own, gaining his attention again.

"I paid it willingly, Talian," she whispered. "And I would again." He shook his head at her in dismay.

"You shouldn't have had to give up a piece of your life because of me. You're too important, to all of us." It was hard to look her in the eye, he found, and so he was surprised when she laughed quietly across to him. When he did meet her gaze, it was a knowing one she gave him, shaking her head slightly as she replied.

"Our whole lives, all you've done is try to shield me from whatever harm or danger you think you and your family name can do to me. Even now, even when you would follow my orders without question, in your deepest of hearts, you still see me as some charge to keep safe from you."

"Because it's a real threat," he said quietly, shaking his head. "What Caresian did…"

"Yes," she replied flatly, her eyes narrowing in an old anger, "I'm  _well_  aware of the things that Caresian did." She sighed, softening her expression. "But you aren't your father, Talian. I know it, and so does Lor'themar." He shot her a confused glance, and she laughed quietly. "He sends his regards, and his thanks."

"Oh…well…that's…nice…" Talian managed, and she laughed again, reaching out to put a comforting hand on his arm. He looked across into her eyes, and smiled warmly to her. All the impossible hopes and dreams he'd had for them came rushing back, and he felt a heat rise into his face that he was sure she'd be able to see. Looking back to her only confirmed that she had. Her hand closed a bit tighter on his arm, and his eyes were locked on hers.

Her expression changed, then, and she looked at him with a gaze that held secrets he wasn't sure he'd ever be privy to, vision of a Naaru or not. "Why do you keep a Phoenix Blossom on your mantle, Talian? Why do you make a solitary journey that takes the better part of your morning every week just to pick a fresh one? Why do you spend every possible hour in the city, training the recruits personally in the Hall when your rank far removes you from such duties?" He could feel heat rush to his face once again, and he wanted desperately to look away from her peering eyes and knowing smile. But he could not, and moreover he  _would_  not.

"You know why, Liadrin," he whispered across to her. "You've always known; you're not dense." He smiled at her weakly, shrugging his shoulders. "At least, not about  _this_." She grinned, removing her hand to lightly slap his arm, but putting it right back in place afterward, and he chuckled softly. The silence fell back between them again, and he sighed gently. "You…don't have any idea how important you are to me, Liadrin." It was her turn to blush, and she laughed quietly, but quickly regained her composure, her hand beginning to rub his arm affectionately.

"And you don't have a clue how important  _you_  are to  _me_ ," she whispered, and he shook his head adamantly, the smile staying on his face.

"I think I've got a bit of a clue," he replied quietly, remembering how her emotions had slammed into him when he'd seen her memories. He had sparred with Liadrin, he knew the force and fury she brought to bear in combat, but that had been far and above anything he'd experienced from her before. It had shaken him to his core. She seemed to understand his meaning, and frowned a bit.

"I'm sorry," she said after a moment. "I should have warned you about what might happen, there just wasn't any time. I needed you conscious, and that was all. I couldn't…you could have…" she trailed off, looking away as she shook her head, and he reached a hand out to cup her chin and turn her back to him. His expression was the picture of concern, and his thumb moved from the soft point of her chin to brush a gentle line across her jaw.

"You saved me," he whispered back, and her eyes found his again. "I…might not agree with the price, but the fact that you paid it isn't lost on me, Liadrin." He smiled sadly as he looked across and into the face he'd dreamed about for years, the one upon which he'd lived to see a smile. "I'm afraid of what it could mean for you, that's true. And I'll  _always_  be trying to shield you from the trouble that it could bring. But…yes, Liadrin. I want this. I always have."

"So do I," she whispered, a glint finding its way into her eye. He smiled, but shook his head.

"The nobles, the people who still blame Kalos and me for what happened, they'll talk."

"Let them talk," she whispered again. She shifted smoothly on the bed, bringing herself a bit closer to him, and he could feel his pulse race faster through his body. He reached out to place a hand on her thigh, and she smiled at him in response. It was infectious, and he had to return it with one of his own even as he looked down to where his hand rested.

"Too many people won't think highly of you for this," he said, looking up to meet her gaze after a long moment. She was still smiling, if a bit pained now.

"I'm starting to think  _you're_  the one who's dense," she replied, her smile growing a bit in intensity. "You still don't get it, do you? The only person's approval I give a damn about is yours." He stared into her eyes, and after a moment she leaned forward, brushing the tip of her nose against his. His breath came with difficulty, and as his mind weighed the decision, his heart ignored it entirely, pushing him to lean in and press his lips against hers. They were warm and soft, and he breathed deeply as time seemed to slow to a crawl. Liadrin moaned lightly against his kiss, and pressed back into him with a startling amount of force. Her hand reached up to his face, holding him gently as she kissed him, and he could feel the latent need for him in each press of her lips. He pulled away after a moment, and she leapt back at him, pushing him down onto the mattress. He laughed in surprise, and she straddled him again, running her hands under his shirt to feel his skin against her own.

He sat up, reaching behind her to run his hands across her back while she sat in his lap, and kissed her again, letting his lips wander across her jawline and down the side of her neck. Her breathing was heavy in his ear, her hands gripping his hair tightly as he explored her upper body with his mouth, and after a long moment, he slowed his pace.

"We should let the others know that I'm in better shape," he whispered, his lips brushing against her collarbone as he spoke. She gripped his hair tightly in two balled fists, pulling his head back with surprising force so she could look at him. He looked up into her eyes, so unused to seeing them as soft and wanting as they were, even as she laughed quietly at his suggestion.

"I've waited  _years_  for this, Talian," she replied with a half-smile. "Azeroth can stand to wait an hour or two for news about you." He laughed in response.

"Of course, my Lady," he replied with a grin, and she growled quietly in reply, leaning in to meet his lips with hers once again, her passion matching his own in a fiery embrace that consumed them both.


	13. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Content Warning]]
> 
> And now, kids, is where we really sit down and earn that Mature rating! If you’re not interested in smut, skip the first section. Talian and Liadrin say goodbye, she’s headed to check on Farstrider Retreat for Halduron’s troll problem, he’s going to train up the recruits that volunteered to stay with him in Tranquillien, and the Forsaken and Sin’dorei are establishing a permanent, fortified outpost at the newly-cleared-out Suncrown Village. There, you’re all caught up. :)
> 
> Also, I edited and re-read this chapter about 18 times. I'm pretty sure it's ironed-out well, but I'll admit I got snowblind towards the end there. Please don't hesitate to let me know in the comments if I've made some error. Usually by the time I post a chapter, if I haven't caught one yet, I never will unless you tell me. :P

**~ 12 ~**

The slim, oval-shaped windows of the chamber sat high up in the stonework walls, and so the dawn's light reached in slowly, creeping a smooth delineation between night and day across the cold stone floor. The light was a soft orange, as if even the sun itself wasn't entirely committed to the idea of daytime just yet, and as it continued to ascend over the horizon, the line moved slowly up the foot of the bed, inching up the sheets, and finally coming to rest on Talian's face. His eyes stirred awake, but years of being punished for waking his father too early in the day kept the rest of his body from moving before he'd had a chance to look around. He noticed immediately that he was alone in bed, and his eyes, half-lidded and still heavy with the previous night's exhaustion, slid lazily over to the large door of the chamber. He smiled when he saw her, though she had her back to him, because she was in a state in which he'd never seen her before. She wore a white undershirt whose hem sat loose and untucked just past her waist, having changed out of the one she'd sweat through during the ritual, and cream-colored leggings that hugged tightly to her. Her chestnut hair hung untied around her shoulders, and his smile of delight at seeing her turned into one of true thought. He struggled to remember the last time he'd seen her hair let down, out of her simple ponytail, and somehow it made his heart warm to think that she truly had relaxed with him, let herself  _be_  herself in the privacy of his company.

She stood with one arm planted on the door-frame, not to bar anyone from entering, but more so to balance her weight. Her other hand rested on the inside handle of the door, which she'd cracked just enough to speak with whomever had come to see her, not wanting to let the daylight in and wake him, if she could help it. Her voice was hushed as she talked with the visitor, and she reached one leg behind her, aimlessly stroking the calf of her other leg to relieve some unseen tickle or itch as she spoke.

"Yes," she said quietly, nodding to what her conversational partner had said. "It certainly worked, but we can't rely on it going forward; the price is…far too high." The visitor replied, but Talian couldn't hear it through the door, though he guessed from the pitch of the voice that it was another woman. After a moment, Liadrin looked away to the wall beside her, and Talian could see her flushed cheek when she did. "Yes, well…he's a bit of a unique case, I'd say." He heard the light and quiet laughter of the woman beyond the door, and Liadrin joined her in it for a moment before shaking her head and speaking again. "I just wanted to thank you and the High Executor again, for getting him situated so quickly. My recruits…well, you know how most of our people who want to become Blood Knights are: They itch to bring a blade to the Scourge and barely bother to learn any of the healing arts. If not for miss Ebongale and Deathstalker Carville…" she shook her head slightly, and through the doorway Talian could see a gloved hand reach in to gently squeeze Liadrin's shoulder in support. Liadrin recovered her poise, and the two talked for a bit longer before the woman left and Liadrin shut the door behind her.

Talian saw her glance over at the key for a moment, then back to the door, seeming to mull over the possibility that they'd continue the events of the previous evening this morning. After a moment, she quietly took up the key and locked the door, placing it back on the chest of drawers and crossing the room with a yawn. It pulled one out of him as well, and he pushed himself up to a sitting position on the bed, the sheets falling from his bare chest as he did. The tail-end of her yawn turned up into a half-smile as she saw that she'd afflicted him with one as well, and then into a full smile when he held up the sheets for her to crawl back under them. She did so almost eagerly, resting her head on his arm and laying a hand on his chest. She pressed her body against his, and he reached behind her with the remainder of the arm on which she rested to stroke her back lovingly.

"How long have you been awake?" she asked him quietly, tracing simple patterns across the surface of his chest with a slender but well-calloused finger. He closed his eyes at the sensation, letting out a quiet sigh of contentment before answering.

"Just a few minutes. Was that Dame Auriferous?" Liadrin nodded against his arm, her fingers continuing to swirl gently against his chest.

"Yes, and as warm and accommodating as I've ever seen her. You probably don't remember, but she  _did_  welcome you personally to Tranquillien when you first arrived. I don't think she had been fully briefed about the condition in which you'd be arriving, though." She laughed a bit, and he shook his head with a smile.

"My first major diplomatic meeting as head of House Sunvale, and I show up out of my mind on nerubian venom." He sucked his teeth quietly in feigned dismay. "Not the strong start I'd hoped for, if I'm being honest." He felt her body shake against his with laughter, and when it faded she reached across with the hand she'd had on his chest, squeezing him tightly.

"I'm sure you'll get the next one right," she replied, and he felt her shrug against him. "Or, at the very least, pull off something equally embarrassing. It's hard to tell, with you." He laughed quietly and smiled, leaning over and pulling her close to kiss the top of her head. He breathed deeply, drawing in the scent of her, and she seemed to cling even tighter to him, for a moment squeezing hard enough to remind him that, regardless of the past few hours they'd shared together, she was no delicate flower. He let a long moment pass between them in the morning silence, his hand rubbing up and down her back and occasionally earning a quiet moan of comfort from her in response. He looked down at the side of her face resting on his arm, and for the countless time in the past few hours he still could not believe his eyes. He shook away the ever-looming feeling that he was still locked in a fever-dream, and kissed her head again before speaking.

"Any updates from the alchemist?"

"Not yet," she whispered beneath him, her eyes still closed and a warm smile on her face in enjoyment of the way his fingers traced their way gently up and down her spine. "They seemed genuinely confounded by the venom sample; I imagine it will be a while before they have anything definitive." Her eyes opened then, looking up to meet his with a sarcastic gleam. "In the meantime, I'd consider it a personal favor if you'd stop offering to become dinner for any more nerubians you may encounter."

"A personal favor, you say?" he frowned in mock astonishment, and she nodded. "Well, I'll certainly take it under advisement," he replied with a smile.

"I  _could_  just order you to run away from any nerubians you come across," she said whimsically, her hand returning to trace against his chest once more. "A direct command from the Matriarch of your order that, should you encounter nerubian forces of any kind, you are to  _immediately_  hurl your weapons to the ground and run screaming, as would a child who had been read some particularly terrifying bed-time stories." Her hand snapped flat against his chest, and she perked up with a sudden thought, propping herself up on her elbow. "Oh! I could even assign you a personal retinue of recruits whose  _sole_  purpose would be to ensure you followed my orders exactly, and then to recount the tale for me in detail when next we met!" Her eyes, which had slid off to some point on the chamber wall in thought, now flitted back over to his, and that gorgeous, knowing, half-smile re-appeared on her lips. He laughed and put his hands up in surrender.

"Alright, alright, no need for flagrant abuse of power. I'll stop letting the bugs take bites out of me." She let her half-smile become a full one as she leaned down slowly to press her lips against his.

"Good," she whispered as she broke off the kiss. She leaned forward to brush her nose against his again, and just as she made to lean back, he brought the hand with which he'd been stroking her back down to her waist and pulled her to the side until she swung her far knee across his legs and straddled him. She had followed his lead, but now looked down and then back up to him with a surprised expression. "Well," she breathed quietly as she leaned back in, her lips hovering just far enough away from his own, " _someone's_  gotten bold." He felt heat rush to his face as her words made him recall the previous evening.

From the second he had kissed her, she had thrown all pretense to the wind. She had needed him, and the feeling had most certainly been mutual, but for all intents and purposes she had remained fully in control of the evening. He hadn't thought it an intentional choice; her passion had driven her to almost animalistic levels of desire for him, whereas if he were honest with himself, he had continued to harbor the fear that when the passion and the satisfaction faded, she would insist that the moment they had shared had been a mistaken over-reaction to the dire circumstances in which he'd been. She would ask kindly, but firmly, that they keep the matter between the two of them, and his life would slip back into the painful isolation that he'd grown almost accustomed to by now. But the hour or two she had hinted they would need had ended up becoming an entire evening. They had moved effortlessly, over the hours, between passionate love-making, intermittent sleeping in each other's embrace, and simply laying together reminiscing about their youth. Still, regardless of what they had been doing at any given moment, they had never been apart; she had always had some piece of her pressed against him, as if afraid that the second she broke the contact, he would disappear before her very eyes. The passion had settled to manageable levels, the satisfaction that his body could give her had been received and thoroughly felt many times over, and yet she had still held as tightly to him as she had during that first, blissful kiss.

It had been early in the morning, still the dead of night by any reasonable person's timekeeping, when the screech of a duskbat in some copse of trees outside Tranquillien had woken him from sleep. He had stretched out where he lay on his left side, and looked down to see her back pressed against him as she slept. Her face had been the picture of serenity, and he had reached over to brush his hand gently down the length of her toned arm. It had been nothing, the lightest of touches, but she had awoken immediately, her eyes finding his in the darkness of the chamber, the concern within them asking before she could even whisper the words whether he was alright; physically, emotionally, with what had been happening between them for hours now. When he hadn't responded, instead just staring love down into her beautiful green eyes, she had turned in place to face him before kissing him with a passion that would have melted steel and sent the Spire itself crumbling into ruin. He had returned it in kind, reassured her that he was fine, and they had returned to sleep, but her silent intensity in that moment…it had been like seeing a brand-new color for the first time; his brain had not the means to fully understand it. Still, he knew that it had burned any fear from his mind, and he had held her all the tighter for it when he returned to sleep.

"Bold?" he asked her quietly, earning a wicked smile and giving her one in reply. "I don't think you've seen bold yet, Liadrin." She leaned back a bit to cover her mouth with her hand in sarcastic shock, and he squeezed her hips with both hands even as he laughed at the gesture. The pressure of his hands seemed to instill the seriousness of his intentions into her, and her eyes glazed over with that same intense, almost primal, gleam that he'd seen the night before. She leaned forward to kiss him again, deeper than before, and he slid a hand to the small of her back to keep her there, feeling her smile through their kiss as he did. "What about Carville and the others?" he whispered to her between the gentle but persistent storm of intimacy. She pulled away for a moment, but his hand held her in place. A confused expression settled into her face, but she shrugged as she began speaking.

"They're being permanently assigned to Suncrown, from what I heard." He looked up into her eyes and nodded, silently coaxing her to continue as he slid his other hand unnoticed beneath her. "I think the plan is for them to…um…" she trailed off as she felt the gentle sensation of his pulling the drawstring of her leggings. The waistline of the garment slackened as the small knot unraveled, and he pressed his hand against her stomach, causing a shiver to run through her. She closed her eyes with a smile, understanding the game he was attempting to play with her, and resolving to not be undone by it. He slid his hand down slowly, feeling the warmth of her against his fingertips as she opened her eyes and looked down to him with a barely-contained grin. "They," she began deliberately, forcing her mind to focus but never losing the smile on her face, "are likely going to try to establish some kind of out—," she cut off her sentence with a sharp hiss as he pressed his middle finger against her, and bit her lip in focus even as her smile grew wider. "An outpost," she continued after clearing her throat. Beneath her, he grinned unabashedly, adding pressure with the palm of his hand as he began to stroke his finger gently against her. She quivered for a moment, bringing her forehead down to rest against his and staring into his eyes as she continued. "They want to set up a safe haven between…ah…between Eversong and Tr-Tranquillien."

"Makes sense," he whispered back to her, pulling her closer into his body with his steadying hand and reaching up to kiss her neck. She let out a sound halfway between a moan and a growl in response, and he chuckled against her soft skin, his lips feeling her pulse pounding through her veins. He had two fingers pressing against her now, and felt them slick with her as she moved her hands, from where they sat on either side of his head, up to clutch the top of the bed's headboard in a death-grip. "Just the Forsaken?" he coaxed her quietly, and she closed her eyes as she shook her head gently.

"No…" she breathed, the response heavy and laden with desire. His fingers slowed in their work, and his smile grew as he felt her taking over, rocking her hips slowly against his hand as her breathing became heavier still. He let his steadying hand slip under her shirt, and the cool of it against her warm skin made her moan softly as he rubbed up and down her back. "They…mmm…they have some of our people, too." His mouth reached her collarbone as his hands traced her spine and teased between her legs, and she leaned back, pulling off the shirt she wore and tossing it aside without caring where it landed. She leaned her head back, the smile on her face becoming slightly open-mouthed as his lips moved slowly but determinedly across her chest. "Aurif…mmm…Auriferous says she'll…she'll keep…" she trailed off with a soft moan, and he brought his face back up to kiss her lips again in silent encouragement. He watched, his eyes gleaming mischievously, and waited for her to compose herself for one last attempt to stay strong. After a moment, she did, shaking her head slightly to clear it as best she could before continuing. "She says she'll keep sending suppl—Oh! Sun's fucking grace, Talian!" she cried out in a harsh whisper, releasing the headboard and wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he pressed his slick pair of fingers inside her to derail her train of thought. He laughed quietly as he kissed the side of her neck again.

"She must have more influence than I thought, if she can send the Sun's own 'fucking grace' to the village," he mumbled with feigned shock, and she shook with a combination of the laughter she gave in reply and reaction to the exploration of his fingers below.

"Alright," she breathed into his ear, biting the edge of it slightly and sending a shiver down his spine. She pressed against him with every ounce of strength she had, now, desperate for more, and he sat up further, moving deeper within her as she rested her face against his cheek. "I give up. You win. Just please…oh, shit…please don't make me pretend to give a damn what's h-happening outside this room right now." He bit her neck gently, feeling her pulse throbbing against his teeth for a moment, and she moaned again quietly, melting against him.

"I'd call those fair terms," he whispered, leaning back upright to kiss her lips. She nearly devoured his own the moment he came close, and he felt himself being smashed against the headboard under her passionate assault. She pulled back after a moment, holding tightly onto his shoulders as she squeezed her eyes shut and rolled her hips against his hand over and over. He kept his other hand on her back to steady her, and let his eyes drink in her form. Her auburn hair still hung loose, and a bit disheveled now, and he smiled to wonder how mortified she'd be if anyone besides him had seen it in such disarray. Her sun-kissed skin glistened with a slight sheen of exertion, and the dawn's light seemed to almost glimmer off her body as it moved before his eyes.

Soon, her breathing came quicker, and she pulled him closer to her with one hand while she reached down to add to the sensation with the other. She pressed her forehead against his, and mumbled incoherently, her breath coming in short, heavy bursts. Then, like the breaking of a dam, pleasure washed over her, and she shook slightly against his chest as she let out a long, low, breathy groan. She tilted her head to kiss him lightly for not more than a moment before pulling away to breathe deeply for air. He extricated himself from her as gently as he could, and as she began to come down from the experience, he slid his back down the headboard until he lay on the bed again, with Liadrin collapsed atop his chest. He wrapped both arms around her to hold her steadily, and when she shivered against him in the chill of the morning air, he pulled the sheets tighter around them both. He craned his neck up to kiss the top of her head, and she hummed satisfaction in reply. For a long moment, they simply lay entangled in each other, him gently rubbing her back and her placing gentle kisses across his chest. Eventually, he heard the softest of sighs escape her. He had heard plenty of them over the past handful of hours they'd spent together, but this one seemed almost pained.

"You're leaving," he whispered down to her. He knew the answer; it would have been ridiculous to think otherwise. She was needed in Silvermoon, and even with the torrent of now-expressed feelings they held for each other, he was a Master of the order. His place was in the field, leading other paladins to victory; hers was in the Hall of Blood, leading them all to an even greater victory. Even through the sting of sadness, he smiled down at her, perfectly content in the knowledge that he'd follow her lead no matter where it took him, as she would his, should the situation require it. Beneath his chin, she nestled her head tighter against his chest.

"Yes," she whispered, the pain he had suspected fully confirmed in her tone. After a moment, she stirred from her position, leaning off to lay beside him on the bed. He smiled across at her, and she returned it with a sad one of her own before he reached over to smooth her hair back down. She smiled at him deeper in thanks, and moved closer to him, her face inches away from his own. He draped an arm over her to rub her back again, and she hummed in appreciation, running her free hand along his arm as he did. Her eyes closed as she felt the movements, and continued her thought. "I'm leaving the group of recruits with you. I offered them the chance to go back to Silvermoon; they all politely declined." She opened her eyes then to smile at him fully, and he felt embarrassment flood his cheeks.

"They're good kids," he replied. "Give me a few weeks with them, and they'll be good paladins, as well." She laughed quietly and reached up to kiss the tip of his nose.

"I don't doubt it." She replied, her pride in him spilling out of the look she gave. He kneaded her back in reply, grinning as she groaned softly at the release of some long-held tension there.

"Well, with Suncrown handled, where do you need us?" he asked, and her smile deepened. She knew that he would do anything to see her happy, but that he would do anything she asked for as his superior was a kind of loyalty that was worth its weight in gold ten times over, and she knew she had that as well.

"Right now, I need you to stay in Tranquillien," she said, moving her hand to trace patterns on his chest once more. "Get the recruits up to snuff on the basics, make sure they can still hold a blade the right way after what happened in Suncrown. I'm headed to Farstrider Retreat to get some information; once I have it I'll send word to you immediately." He nodded along, and when she finished, he reached across to brush her cheek with his thumb. He sighed softly through his nose after a moment.

"I feel like, after…all of this…" he trailed off, and her eyes grew concerned. She reached her hand up to hold his against her face, and he smiled. "I  _might_  actually miss having you around more than I normally do." He grinned, and she narrowed her eyes, wrapping her four fingers around one of his and pulling backwards on it. "Ah! Alright! Come on!" he stammered in pain while laughing, and the look on his face forced her own laughter to come spilling forth as well. When they'd quieted down, she leaned forward to kiss him again.

"I would hope so," she whispered onto his lips, and he smiled as she pulled away.

"So, what information are you looking for at the Retreat?" he asked as they settled back down onto their pillows. She shook her head slightly.

"Halduron's been getting reports, albeit from newly-trained scouts mostly, about the trolls near Tor'Watha. Apparently, a couple of them have been seen performing necromancy, which is pretty unusual for their kind." Her voice had hardened at the end, and his heart had broken the smallest bit. It was a piece of her now, that tragedy, and he imagined she would never be truly free of it. He remembered with a sting of pain the emotions that had assaulted his mind when he'd seen one of her memories the day before. It had been an entire ocean of suffering, poured on top of him.

"That's…a real thing?" he asked quietly, and shook his head at her confused expression. "I came to for a bit when some Forsaken were in here changing my bandages. Heard them mention something about troll necromancers, but until now I had just chalked it up to venomous delirium." She shrugged.

"I don't know if it is or isn't; that's one of the things I need to find out. I'll talk to the scouts, old and new, hear what they've seen." Talian nodded, and she smiled up at him. "But I'll need a solid baseline of information before I head out, so why don't you tell me what you overheard?" His face twisted up slightly in confusion.

"What, while I was out of my mind?" She nodded, shifting slightly on the bed beside him to get more comfortable.

"Yes. I want you to tell me everything you heard about it," she replied, her eyes carrying that familiar glint.

He thought through it with great confusion for a moment before shrugging. "Well, there were two Forsaken who came in to cha—" he cut off mid-sentence, his eyes widening as he felt Liadrin's hand brushing gently between his legs. A grin came to his face as he saw the trap only after having stepped into it, and he shook his head. "Oh shit…" he mumbled. Beside him, she laughed quietly.

"Everything, Talian," she whispered back to him as her hand began to slowly move beneath the sheets. "In  _great_ detail."

* * *

Syrisa's footfalls echoed as she walked the empty stone halls of the necropolis, the heavy thud of her plate boots resonating off the blood-stained stone and coursing through the chilled air. She was feeling particularly malicious at the moment, having just come from interrogating a pair of Argent Dawn footmen that had been sent to her this morning. In the cold reaches of Northrend, Zeramus had been an excellent staging point for the procurement of sensitive information. Far removed from the mortal races, and dominating the plagued landscape of Zul'Drak below, Zeramus was as secure a location as could be found for those items, and persons, the Master needed to remain well in hand, save for the Citadel itself, of course. Every few days now, the mages below would open a portal from some corner of Azeroth, and lead new victims into her waiting claws. She would torment them, harangue their minds, and retrieve from them what the Master wished to have.

This morning, she had placed the Argent footmen in a room with a single blade, and made them fight to the death, promising freedom to the survivor. They had not believed her offer of clemency, but desperation had nagged them as she had begun to seep poisonous gas into the chamber, and eventually one had found the heart, taking up the blade and nearly beheading her ally. She smiled again as she walked, in recollection of the way the man's head had lolled to the side, connected by the merest piece of flesh as his blood had poured forth from the neck. As her reward, his murderer had been tortured, her screams serving only as the punctuation marks to the bevy of information she had given to Syrisa. She had cut and broken and bled the woman dry, and in the end, had hurled her corpse from the edge of Zeramus personally, watching it tumble into the abyss to be taken by the ghouls below for a meal. She had hoped the morning's events would lessen the irritation she felt at her current task, but it did nothing to abate the feeling, and so she pressed it down firmly as she rounded through the doorway into Arzenius' former chambers.

The altar sat as before, all darkened stone and ice-blue runes glimmering in the low-light of the necropolis. The elf lay atop it, and her eyes narrowed again when she saw him. The back of her mind tickled in memory, a reason for her hatred, and she reached for it as she would a lamp in the dark of night, her mental grasp fumbling and missing it each time. She scowled in irritation at her inability, and small pools of frost began to collect in the wake of her footsteps. Four cultists stood around the altar, and she saw two of them visibly shiver as she approached.

"Is it ready?" she asked coldly, and one of the cultists turned and fell to his knees before her, his head remaining bowed as he spoke.

"It is, dark titan." His voice trembled with the fear he held, and he cleared his throat in an attempt to maintain the proper respect. She recalled her instructor's fascination with due respect, and reached down to clasp a deathly cold hand around his throat, lifting him effortlessly to hold him aloft as he gagged and sputtered.

"The Master would see this elf raised into service," she whispered. The sounds of his gags and coughs echoed throughout the chamber, and yet she was absolutely certain that the others could hear her quiet words. "We serve the Master's will, each in our own way. Mine is to bring his wrath to bear upon all who would oppose him. Yours…" she trailed off, flexing her grip suddenly and snapping his neck as if it were the smallest imaginable twig betwixt her fingers. She dropped his limp body to the stone floor, and her other hand surged with dark power as she held Arzenius' crystal. Icy blue tendrils screamed forward from her clenched fist, slamming into his chest and pulling the soul from within his body. It took but a moment, and the crystal hummed softly against the deadened flesh of her hand, the power within coursing beneath its glassy surface.

She raised her eyes to find the other three cultists staring wide-eyed, their gazes boring into the elf on the table for fear of invoking her wrath with a single glance. She crossed to the nearest one, a human woman, and pulled the cowl back from her face. Her black hair spilled out over her shoulders, and Syrisa could see her visibly tremble in fear of her impending death as she reached out to trace a line across the woman's jaw with a freezing finger. "Are you ready?" She whispered, the reverberation in her voice causing a tear to stream down the woman's face even as she closed her eyes in preparation. Syrisa leaned in, her lips a hair's breadth away from the woman's ear, then pulled away quickly. "Unfortunately, I only require one sacrifice today." The woman doubled over and emptied her stomach on the stone floor beside her, her hands on her knees to keep herself upright.

Syrisa scowled at her weakness, then looked to the elf on the table. She reached a gauntleted hand forward, cupping it over the near side of the wound in his chest and pulling it toward her. Her efforts were rewarded with a sickening  _crunch_  as she snapped the ribs beneath her fingers, and when the opening was wide enough, she pressed the crystal into the crevice in his chest. Black energy began to seep like smoke from the crystal, filling the hollow around it and sending a latticework of like-colored tendrils racing across his skin. The flesh around the wound began to knit together, the skin around the tendrils began to turn an unnatural shade of gray, and after a long moment the smoke dissipated, the crystal sitting fused inside his chest. It flared with power then, brightly enough to cause her to squint her eyes as she looked upon it, and the faint, far-off sound of a soul screaming as it was consumed flitted through the room, swirling around all their heads and causing the cultists to shrink away noticeably. The sound faded, the crystal dimmed once more, and for a long quiet moment none of them moved an inch. Then, quickly enough to send her hand to the hilt of one of her blades, the elf's body convulsed on the table as an unearthly scream erupted from his mouth. His eyes shot open, the familiar icy blue light emanating from within their depths, and he ripped his arms free of the restraints with which his corpse had been secured, the scream fading again as he propped himself up with his hands. The cultists bowed at the waist and backed away from the altar, and his eyes scanned the room, falling onto Syrisa's own. He held them for a long moment, and she broke the silence.

"Did it hurt?" she whispered soothingly. The elf looked down to his chest, brushing a single finger across the crystal's surface there. He lifted his gaze to meet hers once again.

"Yes," he replied, that unholy reverberation lacing his words. She took a step closer, placing a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

"Was it worse than any pain you've ever experienced, having your soul ripped from the nether and returned to your corpse?"

"Undoubtedly," the reply came. His eyes narrowed as he searched her own for meaning, and she leaned down further to place her lips just beside his ear.

"And do you still feel the anguish, the torment, the pain of the soul that was destroyed to create you, as if its own suffering were your own?" Her words struck him, and his reply was quiet, terrified.

"Yes…" he trailed off into pained silence as she took a step back once more, narrowing her eyes as all sympathy dropped from her voice.

"Good." She turned from him then, striding purposefully back across the chamber as she called out over her shoulder. "See him equipped and armed, and ensure that a necromancer is present at the upper sanctum for mending wounds. He  _will_  need it."

* * *

Avrena jolted awake, the nightmare she'd been trapped in seconds ago already fading from her mind. She tried to recall its circumstances, but it was like grasping at fog, and noticing she sat in bed alone didn't help. A confused frown twisted up on her face, and her eyes immediately sought out Vae's bag on the hook where she'd left it. She got up and stretched her arms with a small groan of relief, then opened it to peer inside. The tome sat snugly confined within, and she crossed back over to the small table, retrieving her mother's necklace and donning it with a small frown of remembrance. A loud thud at the door behind her caused her to jump a bit with a slight yelp, but the excessively-vulgar and muffled curse she heard follow it drew a smile to her face even as she rolled her eyes. She crossed the room, opening the door to find a startled, cloaked, and hooded Vae attempting to balance two containers and two pastries in one hand, a small coin purse in the other, and holding a knife in its leather sheath between her teeth.

"Oh," she said around the blade she held in her mouth. "Hi." Avrena giggled softly, reaching out to take some of the edible items from her hand. She moved to the side, and Vae entered the room, depositing everything on a nearby table before pushing back her hood and letting her white hair spill out around her shoulders. She turned to face her then with a smile and a short sigh. "Good morning, Avvy," she called out.

"You have been busy, it seems," Avrena replied with a smile of her own, and Vae nodded as she plopped into the nearby chair, propping her feet up onto the table and taking a pastry when Avrena stepped over to offer it.

"Well it was  _supposed_  to be a surprise," she said as she chewed a bite. "But then I saw a dice game going on, and you  _know_  I had to get in on that. And then on the way back I saw just the most  _beautiful_  blade…I had to have it." Avrena shook her head as she laughed around her own mouthful of food. Vae shrugged. "Guess I lost track of time."

"Well, it is delicious, even if late. Thank you, Vae." The elven woman smirked, and shot her a wink in response, and Avrena's heart fluttered slightly within her chest. She coughed lightly, suppressing it as best she could, and spoke again. "So, what is our plan?"

"Well," Vae began before taking another bite. "One of the other guys at the bakery was a soldier in a regiment that just got back from up north; apparently Light's Hope is the name of a small chapel up in old Lordaeron. Big hangout for the Argent Dawn, apparently."

"Can't we just take the tome back to the cathedral here in Stormwind?" Avrena asked, and Vae shook her head as she opened one of the containers and took a drink from its contents.

"I checked out the Cathedral District in passing as I made my way back here." Avrena's breath hitched in shock, and she raised a comforting hand to her. "Don't worry, I know what I'm doing when it comes to stealth, Avvy. The place is still on high alert; guards everywhere, and people being searched as they enter or leave. Wouldn't be able to get the tome in there quietly without bribing a member of the clergy, and I'm pretty sure I don't have enough for that." She sighed, her eyes moving to look across at the tome where it sat in her satchel. "And with how bad Arzenius wants this thing…No. That book's got to be put right into that old man's hands, or at the very least left where he can easily find it."

"So…Lordaeron…" Avrena said quietly.

"Yea, Lordaeron. Or the 'plaguelands' as they're affectionately calling it these days."

"I thought that place had been decimated by the Scourge, before we got here," Avrena replied quietly, opening the other container to find some tea that still held a bit of warmth and smelled of delicious apples and spices. Vae nodded to her.

"Yea, that's the place. We'll have to be careful once we get there. It's full of mindless undead, and some not-so-mindless ones who are a bit territorial. But we won't have to worry about that for a while yet; the journey there is going to take some time." She looked away for a minute, lost in thought, then met Avrena's eyes again with a nervous glint in her eyes. "Look, I know you didn't sign on for something this…intense. If you want out…" Avrena smiled warmly at her care, then threw the last small piece of her pastry at Vae's head. She snatched it out of the air as her face twisted up in confusion.

"I'm in," she replied quietly, "and I wish you would just get used to it. I will start to think you are  _trying_  to get rid of me." Vae chuckled and popped the piece of pastry into her mouth with a satisfied smile.

"Well, we wouldn't want that," she replied. After a moment, she laughed quietly again. "Alright well, the next part is going to be fun for you, I think. We've got to take a ride on the Tram." Avrena shook her head, not following her, and Vae's eyes widened a bit. "Oh shit, you haven't even  _heard_  of the Tram?" She shook her head again, and Vae nodded to herself. "Yea, you're definitely going to like this, Avvy." Avrena smiled at her in response, then shifted uncomfortably, bringing a hand up to rub her arm in concern.

"We…should probably wait until later, when we know that Hokuul will not be—"

"He's usually at the forges until about half past three," Vae interrupted absently as she studied the knife she had picked up from the table, running her fingers across its glinting edge. "Then he comes here to get a bite to eat; usually takes him about forty minutes. He walks the trade district for half an hour after that, a full hour if he finds someone interesting to talk to, then goes to the Cathedral to see his sister, who apparently is a priestess?" She paused for a moment as if she were asking Avrena whether she knew the woman, then shook her head. "Doesn't matter. He spends about twenty minutes with her there before returning to the forge. With you in town I'd give him a high chance of skipping the trade district walk to give him more time here eating with you, and he'll probably attempt to get someone to swap shifts with him at the forge to give him more time as well. Given that the only shift desirable for that purpose which journeymen blacksmith work at the forge ends at eleven, we've got about…" she paused for a moment to lean the chair back on two legs, balancing herself with a single boot heel on the table top as she peered out the window and across to the cathedral's clock tower. After a moment, she nodded and let the chair legs fall back to the floorboards, her hair shaking before falling into place around her grinning face, "thirty minutes to dodge him." Avrena's eyes were wide, and she shook her head in disbelief.

"How…I do not…" She tried to come up with a full question, but words failed her, and Vae laughed as she shrugged.

"Gathering information on a target is…kind of what I do, Avvy. You don't think I just love to play dice  _that_  much, do you?" Avrena shrugged, and she laughed again. "One of the other blacksmiths was in the game, told me Hokuul's expectedly-predictable schedule for a small amount of coin." She reached over to present and shake her coin purse, its contents jingling together slightly. "Which I promptly won back from him." She grinned again, and Avrena barked out a short laugh of disbelief.

"You…are incredible," she managed, and Vae winked at her again, then nodded to her bag.

"You all ready to go?" Avrena looked confused for a moment, then came to.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. I did not really unpack anything." Vae nodded.

"Good habit," she replied, pulling her boots off the table and standing once more. She offered a hand to Avrena, who took it, and pulled her up. "Then how about we take a fun little ride together?" Avrena smiled to her, and suppressed with great difficulty the desire to kiss her smirking lips.

"How fun are we talking?" She said instead, squeezing the hand that had been offered her. Vae laughed and smiled back in reply.

"Depends, Avvy. How much do you like fish?"

* * *

Liadrin grimaced in discomfort as she shifted her weight in Redemption's saddle, the morning's activities making riding a bit less enjoyable than it usually was, and the stalwart charger beneath her coming to a stop amidst the trees of southeastern Eversong to turn its head and look back at her movements. She sighed again, leaning down to pat his neck in reassurance, the grimace on her face shifting into a half-smile as she laughed quietly to herself.

"Everything's alright, boy," she soothed him. "I know I haven't been the easiest passenger to have, today." She lifted her eyes then, looking out across the landscape around her bathed in an evening glow, and breathed deeply as the smile refused to leave her face. She closed her eyes, remembering again with perfect clarity the cold of the stone floor beneath her bare feet, the softness of the sheets against her skin, and the warmth of his breath against her neck. It tingled with the thought, and she raised a hand to rub the feeling away as she opened her eyes once more, nudging Redemption to continue onward with her heels. He did so willingly, and after a moment they exited the tree line, crossing into the open plains before the ever-impressive Farstrider Retreat in the distance to the north. She would make it before nightfall, she knew for certain now, and let Redemption make his way across the grasses between at whatever pace he liked. She kept an ever-vigilant eye open for threats, sometimes having to remind herself gently that she no longer walked the face of Outland, where death lay behind every tree and bend of the path, but behind her eyes her mind wandered.

She was relieved, above all else. Not the relief of a mission being completed, or of a battle won, but the deep, profound relief that only the destruction of one of the fears at the core of her being could bring on. Talian was safe, he was whole, and what was more…he loved her, and had  _finally_  come to grips with it. She shook her head even as the smile played across her lips. The man, for all his family's namesake attempted to sully him, was gentle, kind, and always willing to help someone in need. But by the sun's grace he could be stubborn. For years she had sought out every possible way to spend time alone with him, she had flirted in every way she knew how, given him just about every possible hint she could think of, and he'd remained ever just barely on the safe side of the line that separated them from being what they now were. Countless times she had simply wanted to confront him with it, tell him her feelings and her desires and force him to make a decision, but she had known his reservations, and for all she insisted that she didn't care about them, she knew he was right. There would be ramifications to their relationship should news get to the wrong ears.

Still, although he was right, so was she. She didn't care; it was a simple fact. Talian had been there to help her acclimate when she'd been brought to Silvermoon in all her deep-seated pain and loss. He had stood by her when she had decided to leave the priesthood, steadied her when her faith in the Light had waned. He had trained her himself with a blade, treated her fairly when she became his equal, and smiled prouder than would have her own father when she was raised to a rank even above his own. The first time he had bowed to her in respect as his superior officer, a chill of fear had run through her spine. Not a fear that he would take her station above him lightly, but fear that she now might one day be called to send him into a situation from which he would not return. She had thought that would be the worst possible thing that could happen to whatever it was that had grown between them over the years. But Kael'thas and Outland had proven that fear naïve.

She remembered with vivid clarity the battles in the streets of Silvermoon with the fel-blooded minions of the Betrayer Prince, the dozens of men and women she had personally trained cut down defending their home from its own people. She remembered the hastily-established rule of Lor'themar, and the summoning of adventurers among the Sin'dorei to march with her and her Blood Knights through the dark portal to give chase. Halduron had traveled personally to Sunvale Enclave when they hadn't answered the call, returning with reports of an empty village, not a soul to speak with. Talian had followed sullenly behind him into the Hall of Blood, fresh bruises and cuts that were the hallmark of his father's love marring his skin, and told her of Caresian's final treachery to his people. Her heart had hardened at the cruel man's actions, and she'd taken out her wrath on him, ordering him away from the Hall in a fury that had nothing to do with him and everything to do with his father; a distinction she had often reminded  _him_  was essential when they'd been alone together, and which she had now discredited in her anger.

She had hated herself for it that night in her quarters, and had sent for him to be brought to her, planning to apologize, to beg for his forgiveness…to tell him of her long-held love for him and how it had been abused and turned against her when she had learned of his father's actions. But the messenger had returned empty-handed, and she hadn't been able to see him before she left for Outland. She and the Blood Knights had struggled their way across Hellfire Peninsula and through the dense forests of Terokkar to reach Shattrath, the city of light, and plead their case to A'dal. The entire journey, her worry for him had pained her. She lay awake at night imagining all the ways he might meet death, left in a land full of elves who blamed him and his brother for their father's treachery. She wept silently at the worry that he would die thinking she despised him, and when A'dal offered her people salvation, she was embarrassed to realize she thought only of him when accepting it wholeheartedly.

Their campaign in Outland had ended, the Betrayer Prince slain in righteous vengeance, and she had returned to Silvermoon to find a city that seemed comfortingly like home, and yet entirely different. Her guts had twisted in worry that she would return to news of his death, and had twisted even further when he'd been there, in the courtyard of the Hall of Blood training new recruits to the order, when they had returned. She had wondered what she would say to him after months apart, and after parting on such terrible terms, but when she had crossed hesitantly to him, all he had done was smile and bow his head in respect. When he had raised his eyes again, she had still been standing there, astonished, and he had broken every protocol ingrained in him as a Blood Knight by stepping forward and embracing her tightly. She had returned the gesture willingly.

" _I'm so glad you made it home safely_ ," he had whispered to her as he let go, and her heart had sunk at the loss of his touch. Her eyes had watered then, and her mouth had worked to say all the things she'd wanted to tell him in the past months, but he had simply smiled at her again and shaken his head softly, letting her off the massive hook upon which she'd felt herself hang with a simple gesture. He had seen her face, he had felt her embrace, and he had just…understood. He had helped the other knights transition to their new path, he had helped her strengthen the order despite the looks that many of the recruits gave him behind his back, and they had fallen back into their familiar step. Until, as fate would have it, she had done exactly what her worst fear would have been, so long ago.

She hadn't known what kind of state she would find him in when her dragonhawk had come screaming into Tranquillien. She had leaped from the saddle before the beast's talons had even touched the fallow earth, startling the flight master as she had blown past him in a determined fury. Dame Auriferous had seen her coming and waved away the lieutenant giving her a status report, wordlessly leading her to the chamber they had made up for him. When she'd opened the door, Liadrin had seen the Forsaken woman, Mireva Ebongale, wrapping his body in a shroud of holy energy.

" _What are you doing?" she asked her quietly, every ounce of her strength being poured into maintaining an even tone, and holding back tears at the sight of him, broken before her. The woman met her eyes with a glowing yellow pair of her own, her facial expression even more grim than the normal one she saw the rest of the Forsaken wear._

" _Reminding his body how to breathe," she replied. Liadrin's eyes fell to his body, where the holy energy pulsed to compress and relax his chest in time with a normal breathing pattern, and her mind nearly shattered in despair at seeing him so close to death. She tried to think critically, tried to conjure up something she could do to help the situation, but there he lay, not even breathing on his own as the venom ravaged him, and she needed him at least conscious if she were going to… She shook her head, crossing to kneel next to the bed and take his hand in her own. "Thank you," she whispered with a shaking voice back to the woman, who merely nodded in response._

" _I owe him one," she replied, her voice carrying a story that Liadrin very much wished to hear. "You?" Liadrin looked up to meet her gaze, a half-smile forming on her face despite the gravity of the situation._

" _I owe him everything."_

Liadrin's attention was brought back to the present by a sharp whistle from the hills to her left. It had a bit of a warble to it, as would that of a songbird, but she had spent enough time at the Retreat, and with Halduron, to know the lookout's call when she heard it. She held her right arm up into the air, her hand open and fingers spread, and the whistle sounded out again from the trees, twice in succession, to confirm receipt of her all-clear message. They would know that there was no danger following behind her, and she hoped, as her stomach growled again, that they would have something to eat ready for her.

The sun continued to set over Eversong Woods, and she saw the large fires that kept warmth around the open-air Retreat burning as she approached, handing Redemption off to a young stable girl who could hardly stop staring at her in awe. Somehow the girl had recognized her, even in plain travelling leathers, and Liadrin smiled down to her with a wink, earning a giggle of delight from the girl before she led her charger away to be taken care of. She followed her with her eyes for a long moment before turning to climb the stairs up and into the main hall of the Retreat.

"Lady Liadrin," a sin'dorei woman called out to her as she entered, crossing the room to stand before her. She stood half a hand taller than Liadrin, her light pink skin reflecting the firelight that flickered behind her, and her silver hair fell loose to just past her shoulders. Her piercing eyes brimmed with command, and her pouty lips turned up in a smile at her confirmation of Liadrin's identity. "It's a rare honor; welcome to the Retreat."

"Lieutenant Dawnrunner, then?" Liadrin called back to her as she removed her travelling gloves and tucked them into her belt at the small of her back. The elven woman nodded.

"Yes, my Lady. Caelyn, if you prefer. Second-in-command and leader of the Retreat in the Ranger-General's absence, which seems to be more often than not, of late." She smiled in jest, and Liadrin returned it. "The Retreat and I are both at your service." Liadrin smiled a bit deeper at the woman. She had a respect for the chain of command, but a clear sense of personality within her position therein. Liadrin decided she liked her.

"Well, I've actually come hoping to be of service to  _you_ , Caelyn," she replied as she began to walk toward the smell of food. The lieutenant fell into step beside her, a confused expression on her face. "We've been getting reports in Silvermoon of the trolls using necromancy…" she trailed off as she looked across to her, and Caelyn groaned quietly, her hand coming up to rub her eyes in embarrassment.

"I recommended that those reports be verified by senior scouts  _before_  being sent to Silvermoon, my Lady. It appears that one of my scouts lacks any sense of hearing at all." She sent Liadrin a pained smile of apology, and Liadrin laughed lightly.

"An unfortunate handicap to have, if one desires to be a scout," she replied, and Caelyn laughed in reply, thankful for being forgiven for the error. They rounded a corner into a large hall with a small buffet set out on the long table, and Liadrin's mouth began to water behind her lips. She steeled her mind to continue her business, though, and spoke again. "You have senior scouts assessing the claim now?" Caelyn nodded.

"Yes, my Lady, two of my best. They set out just before dawn this morning, and I expected them back a few hours ago, though with the work they do, delays in return aren't at all uncommon." Liadrin nodded in understanding.

"Well then, I'm happy to wait for their return and hear what they have to say, if you don't mind." Caelyn shook her head adamantly.

"Absolutely not, my Lady." She seemed to realize after a moment where they stood, and gestured to the table. "Hungry?" Liadrin leaned in close to her and whispered in reply.

" _Famished_." Caelyn smiled in reply, and they sat down to eat together, discussing the recent patterns of movement, activity among the trolls, and Halduron's concerns about preventative action against their incursions across the river. Lieutenant Dawnrunner was a shrewd strategist, Liadrin found, and recommended a few tactics to improve their current efficiency even without reinforcements. Liadrin promised to take them with her back to Halduron when she returned to Silvermoon the next morning, and Liadrin updated her on the situation in southern Quel'Thalas.

"Yes," she perked up at Liadrin's mention of the liberation of Suncrown Village, "one of our messengers to Silvermoon apparently shared the main road with the man they sent back to inform you of the situation. She returned with news of the operation, and I could hardly believe it. Is it true that it was House Sunvale leading the assault?"

"It is," Liadrin replied with a smile. "Their newest Lord, Talian, has reaffirmed Sunvale as an ally of the Spire, and has been working tirelessly to provide food for our people and fight for their interests." The lieutenant snorted, shaking her head in disbelief.

"I didn't think I'd live to see those mountain-dwellers decide to give us the time of day again, much less lift a sword in our defense." Liadrin's eyes narrowed for just a moment before relaxing again, and she took a subtle but deep breath before replying.

"Yes, well, their last Lord seemed to do everything possible to engender that feeling in us all." Across the table, Caelyn nodded solemnly.

"My family's village was just south of the Sunvale ridge," she said quietly. "Or  _is_. Some of them went back after everything happened, but…" she shook her head. "When the Scourge came marching through, we called to the Enclave for aid; they were the largest, most well-equipped and well-trained House in the area. They were  _supposed_  to help us."

"But help never came," Liadrin finished for her quietly, and Caelyn nodded, looking across into the table in recollection. Liadrin reached out a hand and took hers, and the woman met her eyes, visibly blushing.

"Ah, I'm sorry, my Lady," she stammered, shaking her head to disperse the memories. "You didn't come here to listen to a story we all have in one form or another." Liadrin shook her head.

"It's fine, and I understand. Caresian Sunvale was a despicable man who harmed far more people than he ever helped. But I can assure you, his son is his exact opposite." Caelyn let a short laugh burst escape her.

"Wait, are you talking about the one that dyed all the rabbits around Falconwing bright pink at Noblegarden all those years ago?" Liadrin rolled her eyes, though she did smile at the recollection of the event, and the way its perpetrator had grinned from ear to ear when he'd told her about it.

"No, that was his brother, Kalos." She sighed in embarrassment on Talian's behalf, though she knew he would feel no such shame regardless of what she was about to say, and replied. "Talian is the one who showed up to Fairbreeze dressed as Greatfather Winter that year when the roads were impassable, and the normal performer couldn't make it." Caelyn laughed even harder at that, almost doubling over onto the table.

"The…the…one who almost  _granted_  a child's wish to spar with Greatfather Winter, right there in the square of the village?" Liadrin sighed again, but then laughed a bit herself.

"Yes. He's always been…very supportive of children who wish to learn to defend our lands."

"'Too supportive', one might say," Caelyn replied as she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. Liadrin laughed anew, and shook her head. They quieted down, each of them with a long sigh of relief, and Liadrin spoke frankly again.

"I've known Talian my entire life, and I couldn't list for you all of the times he and his brother defied their father to help Sin'dorei in need. I've seen the restoration of Sunvale Enclave, and the group of refugees displaced by the Scourge that Talian welcomed into his home, all of whom have now joined the House formally to support him, and I've just come from seeing the battle wounds he takes to defend and reclaim our lands. If you ever again give a Sunvale a chance to earn your respect, give it to this one." She smiled warmly as she spoke, and Caelyn met her gaze with reservation, but by the end of her words she smiled and nodded her head.

"If it comes from your lips, I'll hold to it, my Lady." Silence fell between them for a moment, and she opened her mouth to speak again just before a scout stepped quietly into the chambers.

"Lieutenant," he called to her, and Liadrin turned to look at him. He stood clad in the worn but effective leather armor of a senior scout, his forest-green cloak trailing gently behind him, and his eyes were hardened with exhaustion. The armor was splattered with old bloodstains, and some new ones, and Caelyn stood immediately.

"Where is Renthis?" she asked, and the man simply shook his head. She swore under her breath, looking away for a moment before facing him again. "What happened out there?" The man glanced over to Liadrin, seeming to not recognize her, before looking back to Caelyn.

"It's…it's true, Lieutenant. All of it." He paused for a moment to shake his head, then continued. "When we approached a good vantage point, we saw trolls…sacrificing each other in dark rituals. Some of them…were unwilling." He paused, but Liadrin felt none of the concern he clearly held for so-called innocent trolls, and she waited for him to continue. "There are nerubians there, directing everything."

"Nerubians? In command?" Liadrin called out quietly, and the man looked to her with a nod.

"Yes, miss," he replied. "But if they've got nerubians, then—"

"They're not fighting off the Scourge…They've joined them. Or at least the majority of them have," Caelyn finished for him quietly, shaking her head. The scout nodded, and Liadrin's heart began to pound in her chest.

"Scout," she called out quietly, earning his attention. "How did your partner die?" The man looked away for a moment, to Caelyn's eyes, and she nodded. "He…got bitten by one of the spiders, miss. I got him out of there, but I had to carry him the whole way, he could barely walk but to fall over again. Dosed him with the nerubian anti-venom that we all carry in our field packs, but I may as well have thrown it at a tree for all the good it did him. Halfway back to the Retreat, he…he just stopped breathing." Liadrin stood from her chair immediately.

"Caelyn, send word to Tranquillien, to Lord Sunvale. Tell him it's all true, and to expect orders sooner than what he anticipates." Caelyn nodded, gesturing to the scout to see it done. He nodded and rushed from the room. Liadrin moved through the Retreat toward the stables after thanking the Lieutenant for her hospitality and promising to update Halduron and Lor'themar personally and immediately. She found and saddled Redemption herself, the young stable girl certainly having retired to bed at this late hour. As the moon and stars shone brightly in the night skies over Eversong, two horses tore off from the Retreat into the night, one headed south into the Ghostlands, and the other racing for Silvermoon.


	14. Chapter 13

**~ 13 ~**

 “And you are sure that this thing is…safe?” Avrena asked for the third time in ten minutes, albeit with different wording, as the pair of them walked through the Dwarven District toward the Stormwind terminal of the Deeprun Tram. Vae chuckled lightly under her breath, shaking her head as she shifted the bag on her shoulder and shot a glance over to the draenei.

“Of course, it’s safe; it was built by the gnomes, Avvy.” Avrena’s face twisted up into a mask of disbelief.

“Sure, but they also make rocket travel that has a tendency to explode in mid-air more often than _actually_ arrive at its intended destination, so you will forgive me if I am not immediately reassured.” Vae laughed aloud at that, and a small smirk formed on Avrena’s face before she shook her head. Vae’s laughter had caused a small lock of dark blue hair to fall from under her hood, and her eye fixed on it quickly, considering it for a moment before she tucked it back behind her ear. Stormwind had been busier than Vae had expected for this time of the year, and her exploration this morning had shown her that the majority of the city guards’ scrutiny was still focused around the Cathedral District. Not wanting to keep her separated from her mother’s keepsake, Vae had asked Avrena to cast a simple spell to change her hair color and hide her facial tattoos. She couldn’t tell if it had actually done the trick, as people hadn’t exactly been paying her any attention before, but no one bothered them now, so she considered it a win.

“Alright, you’ve got me there,” she ceded, shooting Avrena a wink as she spoke and internally loving the way she could see the woman’s cheeks flush at the gesture. Her smile deepened as they rounded a corner, passing under the cogwheel arch and through the portal leading to the terminal. A slight chill ran down Vae’s spine as they crossed the gateway, as it always did when taking portals, and she shrugged it off, rolling her shoulders to relax herself as a high-pitched voice called out to them.

“Greetings, travelers!” Its owner was a gnome, and Vae glanced over in her direction as she hopped down from the barrel upon which she had sat, letting out a slight “ _oof”_ as her feet hit the ground. Her face was pointed, with sharp angular features uncommon among her people, and her hair was a bright pink, almost enough to hurt the eye to look upon. It was tied up and away from her face into two equal pigtails that hung from the back of either side of her head, and swayed as she walked quickly over, a bright smile shining up at the pair of them. “Here to take the Tram?”

“Yea,” Vae replied, the corners of her own mouth twisting up subconsciously at the gnome’s enthusiasm. “Can we get two for the front car?”

“Sure!” she chirped back, fidgeting with a small device at her belt. She held it up and inspected it closely for a moment before nodding and pressing a few glowing blue keys on it which turned yellow at her touch. She looked up expectantly, and Vae reached into her coin purse, paying their fares, before the gnome nodded enthusiastically and waved them on through. The terminal was a large, cavernous hollow carved into the rock deep beneath Stormwind, and Vae noticed Avrena’s eyes pointing high into the ceiling in awe as she followed her into the terminal proper.

“By the Light,” she whispered, “how long this must have taken to carve out…” Vae took a look upwards herself, nodding thoughtfully at the high-arched cavern ceiling.

“Yea, years I imagine. And that’s if they had a mage to help. Then again,” she continued with a shrug, “they’re gnomes, so that’s probably a given.” Avrena snorted a small laugh, bringing her eyes back down to meet Vae’s, who smiled at her in return. “You think the ceilings are impressive? You haven’t seen anything yet.” Avrena arched an eyebrow.

“You know, you have been teasing me about how wonderful this Tram ride is so much that I’m starting to think it will likely just be another portal.” Vae chuckled beside her, then leaned in to whisper her reply.

“Oh, I tease quite a bit, Avvy. But in the end, I _always_ deliver.” She grinned at the end, expecting to see Avrena’s flushed cheeks when she pulled away, but it disappeared from her face in an instant when the draenei instead wrapped a hand around her near wrist and pulled her just an inch closer to whisper herself.

“I’m counting on it.” It was Vae’s turn to blush as her eyes opened wide, and after a moment Avrena squeezed her wrist gently before letting go of it and stepping ahead without even giving her so much as a glance. Vae stood for a moment, dumbfounded, before shaking her head clear and jogging the few steps to catch up to Avrena as the Tram arrived in the station. The series of platforms came screaming in from a distance, slowing rapidly before sliding into place in front of their respective docks. The two of them walked to the front platform, and Avrena stepped unsurely onto it, reaching for one of the hand-holds on the frame that connected it to the track above as soon as her hooves were steady. Vae did the same, and for a few moments they stood there, silently letting themselves be lost in the bustle and commotion of the engineers performing diagnostic checks as they did every time the Tram docked on the Stormwind side. Vae closed her eyes, breathing in the deep smell of oil and earth around them, and exhaling slowly just as the magical barriers around each platform snapped into place.

Each platform was its own ensorcelled car, and Vae was glad for the added protection against accidental falls. With the distance the Tram covered and the speed at which it moved, she knew that falling out was a death sentence; if the fall itself didn’t kill you, the journey in either direction would take far longer than you had left without food or water. She felt a shiver run through her at the mere thought, and attempted to distract her mind by taking in their fellow passengers. In the car just behind them, a small family of dwarves stood patiently, the husband and wife engaged in softly-spoken conversation, and the small child she held looked over her shoulder to smile at Vae. She grinned in reply, holding up a hand and waving her fingers at it. It giggled at her gesture, and the father noticed the exchange with a smile, giving her a nod of greeting which she returned. The car behind theirs sat empty, and in the last car a group of four priests from the Cathedral stood waiting to travel to Ironforge. One woman read from a book, two men spoke with each other, and the third man stood off alone, looking out over the engineers at their tasks as Vae had been a moment before. Their hoods were pulled up, likely against the cold of the drafty Tram tunnel here beneath the earth, but she could tell from their builds that they were all human, likely some delegation from Stormwind Cathedral. They seemed fairly bland, and none spared her even a passing glance, and so her eyes slid back to Avrena, who yet again stood peering upward, this time at the track above. Vae laughed softly.

“I have a feeling you’re going to need a healer to look at your neck by the time we’re done in here.” Avrena brought her eyes down to meet Vae’s with a small smile on her face, and shook her head. She opened her mouth to speak, but just then a single klaxon sounded out from the control facility, and the Tram began to move. It crawled at first, slowly picking up speed as it began its journey back toward Ironforge, but after a few hundred feet the track dipped into a downward angle. The platforms of the tram rotated on their gyroscopic mounting brackets to stay level even as the Tram as a whole traversed the diagonal slope, but Avrena’s eyed opened wide, and she added a second hand to tightly grip the handle. The Tram leveled out at the bottom, then travelled over a pocket of magical energy that rocketed it forward, sending it careening down the track and through the deep trench within the earth. A few minutes passed and Vae looked up ahead, seeing the blue patches in the tunnel’s ceiling that she’d been waiting for; although at this distance they simply resembled overhead lighting. She glanced over to Avrena and grinned to see her staring at them as well, trying to make out what they were even as she subconsciously held a death grip on the support handle.

The patches began to expand as the Tram rapidly approached, and even over the dull roar of the Tram moving along the tracks, somewhat muffled by the arcane barrier that encapsulated their platform, Vae could hear the sharp gasp she let out as they began to pass underneath them. Sea life in every color imaginable meandered through the great expanse of water beyond the thick glass, a veritable rainbow of life that ran for hundreds of meters as the Tram zipped along the track. Avrena’s open-mouthed smile was perhaps the cutest thing Vae had ever seen, and she laughed lightly at it before calling over to her loudly to be heard over the tracks.

“Told you I deliver on my teasing!” Avrena nodded absently in agreement before her eyes came back down to stare ahead absently as her face scrunched up in confusion. “What’s wrong?” Vae asked, noticing her expression with a smile, and knowing the question she would ask before it came.

“It is an ocean beyond the glass,” Avrena yelled over the din of the Tram, “but I have seen maps of the Eastern Kingdoms; there should not be any water for us to travel beneath.” Vae nodded to her.

“There isn’t,” she called back. “I asked Zillix about it once, when I made the same observation.” She winked at Avrena, who laughed lightly, then continued. “Long time ago, this thing was supposed to link Stormwind with Darnassus; pass under the Great Sea and empty out near Rut’theran.” She waited for Avrena to nod in understanding before continuing. “Halfway through the planning, they realized it was going to cost too much; nobles don’t like to spend money they don’t have to, especially the ones who already owned the companies ferrying people across, and charging them an arm and a leg for it.”

“Ah…” Avrena understood, the distaste audible in her short reply. Vae chuckled.

“Yea. So, they got it changed to Ironforge instead. Only, they’d already announced their plans for the sea-lighting to get people excited about the idea. Eventually, the nobles just agreed to pay for that, to make everyone happy.” Avrena’s brow furrowed again in thought.

“But I still don’t…” she trailed off when Vae laughed, reaching out to tap her palm against the magical barrier atop their platform. Each soft strike sent a ripple of magical compensation rushing through its surface, and Avrena’s eyes widened as she understood the gesture.

“Oh!” she perked up. “Oh, that makes much more sense.” Vae smiled across at her.

“Yea. I thought so, too.” Avrena returned her smile for a moment, then cast her gaze upwards again, and Vae turned to look at the platforms behind them. The dwarven family stood near the edge of their platform, the small child reaching up to make grabbing hands at the fish he saw beyond the glass as his mother laughed quietly. Vae’s eyes were drawn by movement then, sliding past the family to see the group of priests, and an icy pit formed in her stomach. They all four stood together now, in the center of the platform, staring not at the fish above, but instead directly at her. “Avvy…” she whispered, not taking her gaze from them.

“What is it?” Avrena called out in reply, still looking upward.

“I think we’ve got a problem.” Her tone struck a chord with Avrena, who pulled her eyes down to first look across at Vae’s face, and then to follow her gaze back toward the group of priests. Vae’s mind raced, slipping into a tactical assessment of the situation. “I need you to tell me how strong these barriers are, and keep in mind there are four of them.” Avrena reached a hand out, small wisps of icy magic dancing between her slender blue fingers, and touched the surface of the barrier. It shimmered for a moment, and then her magic burned a small hole into it. She turned back to Vae and shook her head.

“I was not even using much power. It would stop a physical object from entering or exiting, but magic will tear right throu—,“ her words were cut off by a loud snapping noise that rang out and echoed along the tunnel. On the next platform, the dwarven child began to cry as its ears were subjected to the collapse of the barrier in the last car of the Tram, and his parents were alerted to the situation. Their enemies’ leader held his hand still outstretched, dark magic wreathing his fingers as empty space now filled the immediate surroundings of their platform. Vae’s eyes widened as he stepped forward, perfectly balancing on the narrow metal beam that attached his platform to the next in line, and placed his hand against it. The barrier began to warp and flex with the influx of power, before snapping away as well. She reached down to take up her daggers, her eyes narrowing. Avrena saw her face, saw the shocked expressions of the dwarven family just past them, and shoved both of her hands against the barrier. In short order, it had shattered as well. Wind began to rush through their hair, and the full din of the Tram’s movements roared like a great beast as the muffling barrier dissipated. The enemy leader had crossed to the barrier protecting the dwarves now, and she could see one of his acolytes already preparing a spell to snuff out their lives once the magical field was extinguished. Avrena’s hands were already working as she muttered a spell, however, and just as the final barrier exploded, a huge wall of ice slammed into place at the edge of the platform. Over the top of it, Vae could see a dark explosion of energy where the killing spell collided with the sudden barricade, and she leaped forward, half-snarling as she landed on the platform with the dwarves. “Over here!” Avrena called to them, her hands sweeping through the air and creating an arcane bridge between the platforms. The dwarves rushed across it, fleeing to the furthest corner of the platform and huddling there with wide, terrified eyes. Avrena took a few carefully measured steps to place herself squarely between them and the wall of ice, and what lay beyond it.

A moment later, the wall shattered, shards of ice glimmering like small bits of glass as they blew outward from the platform and were whipped away to litter the deep black bottom of the Tram’s pathway below. Vae rushed forward, the wind roaring all around her as she lashed out with a dagger before even seeing a target. Something thick and metallic rose to meet its challenge, deflecting her attack and throwing her off her balance. She tumbled to correct for it, coming up to one knee for a mere moment before diving away with a curse as a roaring black ball of necrotic energy slammed into where she’d knelt. Before her, their leader laughed mirthlessly.

“You _will_ die here today, girl,” he yelled over the howling winds that passed by them, only amplified by the tunnel walls around them. His cowl had been blown back by the winds, his face displaying the same ragged pallor that Arzenius’ had, and she scowled in rage at the mere sight of it. “Give us the tome willingly, and we may yet allow you the honor of serving the Master.” She hurled a pair of throwing knives at him in reply, and he shifted his hand, a sickly shimmering barrier blocking him from their points. She threw another pair to occupy him as she yelled back.

“You want a book? Go to the fucking library. This one’s mine.” His eyes narrowed at her defiance, and as he muttered under his breath, the entire platform beginning to roil with sickly black magic that twisted and churned at his center. Vae rushed toward him again, but as she closed a skeletal hand burst forth from the substance, screaming toward her face. At the last possible moment, it erupted into flame, the bones that comprised it falling away into an unceremonious pile of cinder and ash upon the platform’s surface. Vae’s glance shot back to Avrena, whose hands still sat wreathed in flame, and she nodded to her in thanks before turning back to their attackers.

Two more of them had crossed to join their leader on Vae’s platform. One held a pair of swords that looked neglected but still held a wicked edge, the other a small mace and a tome that seemed to shift and move even as she held it. The sight of it turned Vae’s stomach, and she looked past the leader even as the swordsman approached her, to the one in back who stood perfectly still, hands still within the sleeves of his robe. Something about his stillness unnerved her to her core, but she had less than a moment to think about it before having to reach up to deflect the incoming blades of the swordsman, who roared out as he launched his assault. She danced backwards, sending each attack careening off at odd angles, and her pulse raced as she saw the woman crossing over to join him, and their leader preparing a spell to hurl in Avrena’s direction. Her mind raced, and she cast her gaze upward, to the four metal arms joined together to hold the platform aloft as it moved through the Tram. She ducked to the side, dodging the mace swung at her as the woman approached, and rolled down between the blades that came swinging in soon afterward, springing up and ramming her daggers home into the underside of the man’s chin. He gurgled for a moment as blood poured from his mouth, but grinned at her as he fell backwards onto the platform to die.

Her face twisted up in confusion at his expression, and she completely missed the swinging mace, feeling it slam into her leg a moment later. She yelped in pain, collapsing to a knee, and heard Avrena scream something out that got lost in the roaring winds. The mace had been adorned with small pyramid-shaped spikes that had punctured through her armor, and she felt blood seeping from her torn skin, trickling down her calf and pooling inside her boot. She lashed out with the same injured leg, kicking straight into the woman’s ankle as she hefted the mace for another attack, and she shrieked in pain as a rewarding snap came from Vae’s efforts, sending her crumpling to the platform’s surface. Vae rolled to her right just as a series of crystalline arcane projectiles soared over her head, slamming into the leader’s barrier and forcing him to grunt with the exertion of keeping it aloft. Vae spun the dagger in her right hand as she reached the fallen woman, and slammed it downward, sending the blade through her eye before clanging against the platform’s metal floor. She stopped flailing, falling immediately still, and Vae glanced up before charging the leader.

His eyes had still been fixed on Avrena, his magical battle with her raging in the open air above the platforms, but at seeing Vae charge him he dropped the barrier, stepping to the side as she closed and reaching out with his hand. Inky black tendrils raced forward from his fingertips, piercing through Vae’s armor as if it were made of sheer paper, and plunging into the flesh of her arms, legs, and chest. She screamed as the pain shot through her like liquid fire, but remained on her feet and threw herself at him. They collided, tumbling to the floor of the platform, but the pain was too much for her to push away, and he soon towered over her, one hand maintaining the spell while the other reached for a dagger at his belt. He held it aloft, and as he began to bring it down, a massive chunk of ice slammed into his chest, sending him sprawling away from her and breaking his concentration on the spell. The tendrils abated immediately, and Vae writhed in agony as she began to bleed from every hole they’d punctured into her flesh. The man tumbled across the platform and off its edge, his dagger forgotten as he held to the platform desperately with both hands. His legs hung off the side, and a moment later the Tram met another incline in the tracks, the platforms rotating to compensate as they had before. With a scream, his legs were sheared from his body, and his face quickly fell expressionless as the shock hurried him to his death.

Vae pulled herself up to one knee, breathing heavily as the world began to shake slightly in her vision. Avrena called something out to her, but it was muffled in her hearing, and she shook her head to try to disperse the annoyance. Her eyes wanted to close, but she kept them fixed on the fourth figure, standing alone on the furthest platform. His cowl was still pulled forward, and his hands slowly removed themselves from his sleeves. He held them out, and a harsh green light began to shine up from the floor. Vae stumbled backwards, the loss of blood slowing her movements, and her eyes met Avrena’s as her head titled back, her body unwilling to move. The draenei’s eyes opened wide, and she muttered frantically under her breath. The green light intensified around Vae, enough to hurt her eyes, and the last thing she saw before it exploded into white was Avrena’s blue hands shoved harshly in her direction. Her muscles seized, her breath caught in her throat, and black smoke swirled around her in every direction as the cultist’s spell went off. Slowly it dissipated, revealing the platforms again as they rushed onward. She tried to turn her head, and couldn’t. She tried to move her body, and couldn’t. She panicked for a moment, but as the smoke began to fade completely, she saw the root of the problem.

Her body lay exactly where it had fallen, encased in a massive block of ice. That should have been what startled her most, but when she cast her gaze to the left, she saw the corpses of the swordsman and the woman stirring, slowly climbing to their feet once more. Her pulse began to race, and as she looked to the edge of the platform she could see even the top half of the one she’d assumed was their leader had reanimated and begun to crawl toward her. Vae rolled her eyes back to look at Avrena, who slumped slightly in fatigue, and she closed her eyes in frustration. Softly, gently, in the back of her mind, the Shroud beckoned to her. Its offer of power was a whisper in her ear, a well-dressed man with a silver tongue beseeching her to listen, and in a moment, she stood back in the sanctum, looking at the perfect orb of shimmering black liquid. She took a deep breath and reached for it, feeling it race up her arm and coursing through her veins as it did every time. When she opened her eyes again, she met Avrena’s. The draenei took an unconscious step back upon seeing Vae’s face, and then nodded slightly as she waved a hand to release the protective spell.

Vae rolled to her right and came up to a knee, malice burning in her eyes and the screams of pain from her wounds unheeded. She lunged at the swordsman, attacking so ferociously that even in his undead state he was pressed backward by the assault. She stepped through his movements, stabbed repeatedly where she could find purchase with her blades, and danced away from his feints and counterattacks. Her heightened senses warned her of the woman approaching from behind, and she disengaged from him. His mind saw the opportunity, and he lunged with one of his swords, seeking to run her through the midsection. Instead, she vaulted upwards, hands reaching up to grab the metal arms of the platform’s harness. His blade flew through the empty air and embedded itself into the chest of the approaching woman, staggering them both. Vae kicked her legs for momentum, and dropped back down right behind him. He was quick, even undead as he was, and swung at her with his free blade. But the attack was spontaneous, uncoordinated, and she punished him for it, raising a hand to catch his wrist and twist it harshly. The sword fell from his pained hand, and she kicked it back up into the air with her boot, catching the pommel with her free hand and ramming the blade home through the side of his skull, out the other, and into the face of the woman. She took a quick step back and kicked him viciously, sending the now-conjoined pair of them collapsing to the platform.

A hand grabbed her calf and threatened to pull her to the ground, and she spun on her heel, delivering a devastating kick to the face of the half-man on the platform below her. It disoriented him enough for her to pull her boot up and dodge away, and she looked back to Avrena as the pair she’d incapacitated before began to crawl back to their feet. The draenei’s hands were wreathed in flame once more, and though Vae could see her mouth moving to incant the spell, she saw her fingers point upward. Vae took her meaning and leaped again, grabbing the metal framework above just as the entire platform was engulfed in fire. The undead cultists shrieked in pain for a few moments, and then the only sound was the rushing wind blowing their charred ashes from the metal surface. Vae dropped back to the platform below, turning just in time to see the last man’s hands reaching out once more, and her eyes narrowed in fury. She growled, flexing her hand as the tattoo hidden under her armor glowed with dark power once more. The world shifted in a swirl of black smoke, and she appeared behind him on the far platform, close enough to hear his mumbled words. He spun in place, the glowing eyes within his cowl widening in surprise as she lashed out to ram a dagger into his throat.

He reached up to grasp her hands around its hilt ineffectually, and his weight began to lean forward, pressing against her. She stepped aside to let him fall from the Tram, but as he did his hand shot out, grabbing the strap of her satchel. A cold wave of panic shot through her, the Shroud slipping immediately from her grasp and abandoning her, but she hadn’t enough time to react, and in an instant, she felt her own weight leave the metal flooring below, her body tumbling off the edge of the platform and into the black abyss. Her hand shot out, slicing the strap of the bag to separate the cultist from herself, and she grabbed the tome tightly to her chest as she watched him fall away below. She closed her eyes as she heard Avrena yell something from somewhere far above, and waited for the impact of striking the floor of the dark trench below. Suddenly, she felt the cool rush of magic wash over and through her body, and when the impact happened, it was not against a dark metal floor that she landed, but rather into a soft, welcoming mattress. Her eyes still winced at the collision, and after a moment she realized that she still drew breath. She opened her eyes slowly at first, though they quickly widened in confusion at what she saw.

She lay in a comfortable bed with dark purple sheets. All around her sat pieces of furniture and decoration seemingly crafted with amalgamations of carved crystal and smooth metal. Sunlight filtered softly into the room from a window to her left, and she sat up slowly, allowing the tome to fall to the bed’s surface beside her, and craned her neck to look through its glassy surface, out to the landscape beyond. A thick, verdant forest of pines waited some fifty yards from the building in which she sat, and a large beast with snow-white fur and a massive array of antlers grazed on the grass just before it. Her eyes followed the rolling landscape to the left, and widened even further when she beheld the looming, monolithic outline of the Exodar dominating the skyline. “I…” she mumbled, unable to form words for a moment. “Exodar…Azuremyst…” Slowly, the pieces began to fall into place, and she gave the room another glance. She saw the various sets of robes through the slightly-ajar door of the wardrobe, smelled the scent of Avrena on the air within the room, and smiled as she lay her head back down, shaking it side to side in disbelief. Her wounds screamed at her, her blood stained the sheets below, and her head throbbed in agony. But beyond all that…she was still alive. She was safe.

“You never fail to impress me, Avvy,” she whispered across the world to that beautiful, wonderful woman. She chuckled softly to herself, but it was short-lived as the sound of quickly-approaching hooves brought her back to deadly readiness. She whipped two throwing knives from within her armor into her hands, and held them at the ready as the approaching figure rounded the corner with a hushed laugh.

“By the Light, Avrena! I had not expected you to…” he trailed off, his eyes widening as he took notice of her, and the blades in her hand, and he stopped in the doorway, raising his hands in surrender. She eyed him warily, and he slowly lowered them. “You…are not my daughter,” he whispered across to her, dread apparent in his voice. She shook her head, slowly replacing the knives into her armor and leaning forward. She heaved a sigh, and managed to whip up a smile to send his way.

“No, but she’s one hell of a portal-maker in a pinch.” Her smile and tone seemed to relax him a bit, and he let a curt laugh escape him as he stepped into the room.

“She knows this room well,” he offered by way of explanation, his thick draenic accent making him a little difficult to understand. He crossed to the dresser, resting a hand lovingly atop its smooth metallic surface. “I had her learn it before she left. She knew that in an emergency, should could always come back here. But…” he trailed off, pain apparent in his voice, “I am not supposed to know her whereabouts. We made this room a safe haven for her only in the most dire of circumstances.” He turned to her then, his light blue face a mask of stone, the small tendrils hanging from either side of his face twitching slightly with his fear. “So please, tell me…what has happened? Is Avrena safe?” Vae’s eyes glanced to the tome beside her, and she looked back to him, nodding slightly.

“She is now. For the moment, at least.”

* * *

Rhadani’s eyes opened gently, a cool breeze brushing against his face and carrying with it the gentle scent of lilacs and fresh rain. He breathed deeply as the warm smile settled in onto his face, and placed a large hand onto the soft green grass behind him to stand up. He looked around the small glade in which he stood, marveling at its perfection as he did every time. It never failed to take his breath away, and he felt a deep peace within his chest as he began to walk toward the center of the area.

It was dominated by a single massive tree, reaching as tall as some of the older ones in Moonglade, with long branches of pale wood that held blue-green leaves. Its boughs reached upward and outward before cresting to fall to the ground, giving it the appearance of a stationary waterfall of foliage, and he reached up a hand to brush aside some of the hanging boughs as he approached, parting the curtain of leaves and stepping into the silent enclosure behind them. The tree’s trunk was a thick, dark wood, and hovering there before it, on level with his eyes, was the verdant green orb. It swirled constantly with a flowing natural energy, and though it was small enough for him to have held between his two large hands, he did not reach out to touch it, instead stepping forward to stand just before it, as all around him songbirds chirped in the warm sunlight.

“Hello again,” he whispered quietly. The orb swelled in luminance in response, swaying back and forth lightly where it hung before the tree, and he smiled deeper. “Yes, I’ve missed you as well.” He looked around the enclosure, fully hidden away from the world by the drooping boughs of the tree, and chuckled lightly. “This place helps, though. I see you’ve made some changes since I last walked here.”

Before him on the ground, small roots began to climb from the green earth, twisting and weaving into a design that, after a moment’s wait, presented an image to him; a male tauren, his arms folded across his chest and a displeased scowl on his face.

“Oh, no,” he replied quickly, and with a small laugh. “I very much like it. And I’m glad you have time for things like this, if it means that everything is quiet on your side of things.”

The roots untangled from each other and immediately began moving again, twisting and folding in on each other at new curves and angles until another picture resolved before him; a female tauren, peacefully asleep on the soft grass beneath her. As the image coalesced, two of the roots that had not been involved in its creation began to grind against each other, letting loose a sound remarkably close to that of snoring. He laughed aloud at that, placing a hand on his stomach as he did.

“That dull, is it? Well, don’t let them catch you sleeping on the job, my heart, or I daresay the honor might be a bit lessened.”

Again, the roots detangled and reformed, a stunning rendition of her face, sneering and sticking her tongue out at him. He smiled, reaching out a hand to brush the bark-covered relief. Beside him, the orb brightened once more before dimming back down to its normal state. The breeze picked up, cutting through even the curtain of branches to brush against his face lovingly, and he smiled as he closed his eyes, his heart swelling as he felt her presence in this quiet place they shared. The sound of the roots twisting again opened his eyes once more, and after a moment he saw the wooden tendrils interlace to present images of his two children. He chuckled lightly.

“They were fine, when last I heard. Zangarmarsh has been quiet since the defeat of the naga there, and Orgrimmar is as safe a place as can be found for our people.” The wind rushed through the glade, shaking the boughs, which all seemed to tremble around him. “I know, my heart. I worry for them as well. But they are strong, and wiser than you or me, to be certain.” Slowly, the wind died out, and he smiled, crossing over and sitting down with his back against the trunk of the great tree with a loud groan. He reached his hands down, rubbing at his knees to abate the dull pain there. “Do you remember the first time you and I left home?” he asked her quietly.

The songbirds in the glade around him picked up, and the roots turned to face his new position, their lengths entwining to show him the rough outline of the Red Rocks. He nodded solemnly.

“Yes, to see my greatfather’s passing ceremony. He taught me all I knew of the druidic arts, and in his absence, I knew only sorrow. I had thought that I would make that long trek alone, but when I arrived at the great lifts…” he smiled in memory, his eyes seeing past the roots and out to the tree-limb walls of their enclosure. “There you were, satchel packed and walking stick in hand. You smiled at me, and in that moment, I felt that I could shoulder any pain, weather any storm.” He placed a hand absently against the tree’s trunk. “You gave me the strength I needed, and all you asked for in return was my company.” The roots creeped across the earth toward him, formed into a vestigial hand, and reached up to gently hold the side of his face. He closed his eyes with a smile, reaching up to place his hand atop it, feeling the rough bark against his palm. After a moment of quiet, he chuckled softly. “If only you’d known what decades of my company would do to your sanity, I think you might have second-guessed the decision.” The hand against his cheek reached back a bit to slap him lightly on the cheek, and his chuckle became a full laugh as he leaned back into the tree, staring out at the curtain of boughs with a sigh. Everything here was so…verdant. So beautiful; so alive. He shook his head as he took it all in, letting a moment of quiet fall among the glade before speaking again.

“This place is perfect,” he mumbled. “Every time I arrive here, it strikes me anew. Lordaeron…I hope you never lay eyes on it, my heart. It is a place forgotten by the Earth Mother, where the land drinks of sadness and despair as eagerly as of rain. I try to remember our teachings, apply every ounce of knowledge I have, but often I wonder if the plague of undeath has placed that land beyond even nature’s ability to heal.” He trailed off in thought, and the root-wrought arm moved to his shoulder, squeezing gently in support. He smiled down sadly at it, and suddenly it squeezed harder, as her waking hand did upon his arm whenever she’d been struck by inspiration. “Uh oh,” he said playfully, and the hand slapped his arm before retreating quickly, the roots twisting and reshaping to form a symbol with which he was quite familiar in his current waking location: a bursting sun, with rays of light shooting out in all directions. “The Argent Dawn? What of them?”

On the ground beside the sun, more roots burst forward, arcing upward and away to form a recognizable tree that symbolized the Cenarion Circle. His eyes moved back and forth between the two, and she seemed to sense his continued confusion, the roots growing and moving across to enjoin the two symbols into one. “Oh…” he trailed off, understanding her meaning, then shrugged. “I’m not sure that they’re exactly available to help, but it’s a good idea. Perhaps together we can do…something.” He sighed again. The roots dispersed and slipped back into the earth, and suddenly his vision shook, the edges becoming blurry as the world seemed to tremor in his sight. He sighed, knowing what the feeling meant, and glanced up to the glowing green orb. It pulsed again, knowing his look, and he smiled. Time passed far quicker here, or at least it seemed to, an effect of his lack of familiarity with reaching out to their secret corner of the Dream.

“It must be dawning in Lordaeron,” he whispered across to her, and the roots emerged once more from the ground beside him, reaching up to brush his cheek gently before slowly slipping away. A tightness gripped his chest, as it did every time, and he nodded resolutely. “Until next time; may the Earth Mother protect you, my heart.” Around him, the birds chirped louder in a chorus of love, and he smiled as he could just faintly make out her scent on the cool breeze that brushed past his face. He closed his eyes, letting the darkness take him, and when he opened them a moment later, the familiar gloom of Tirisfal Glades met him, a deep orange sun rising over the horizon to the east.

He leaned forward with a grunt and stood to his full height, reaching his arms back behind him in a stretch until he heard the slight popping in his joints that brought him relief. His nose picked up the smell of smoked meats, and he began to cross over to the mess tent to see what had been made of what he’d brought back to the camp, his eyes looking upon the many Argent Dawn tabards around him with a new gleam of hope.

* * *

Avrena collapsed to her hands and knees, gasping for breath as the world around her crept inward at the edges of her vision. All around her, the roaring winds continued to surge, but she paid them no mind, crawling forward on hands and knees to the edge of the platform. She needed to look, needed to see, needed to find any indication that Vae was…that she hadn’t…Tears flowed down the sides of her face, having erupted the moment she’d seen the night elf dragged off the edge of the platform. Her spell had been instinctual, immediate, and reckless. If she hadn’t placed the portal just so, Vae could have lost a limb, or worse…Her body shook with silent sobs, and after a moment she felt a heavy hand on her back. She turned her head to look up at the dwarf who stood there. His short-clipped red hair and long, pointed beard whipped in the open air of the Tram car, but a smile adorned his lips, and he called down to her.

“I hope wherever ye sent ‘er, there be a soft landin’!” Her eyes widened, and she scrambled to her knees as she wiped the sides of her face with a hand before grabbing his shoulders.

“You…you saw? You saw what happened to her?” she pleaded, and he nodded.

“Oh, aye! I’ve nary seen a portal conjured so fast in me entire life, lass. Fell clean through it, she did. Me wife saw it as well.” He gestured over to the woman holding the baby, who nodded with a smile. Avrena felt the anxiety rush out of her in a massive wave, and she closed her eyes in relief. The Tram shook slightly as it met the incline that would begin to take them back upwards through the earth to the Ironforge terminal, and just the small shake was enough to send her sprawling weakly to the platform’s surface. The dwarf muttered a curse and moved to help her, his hand resting on her shoulder as she looked back up at him through the exhaustion that had moved in to replace her dread. “Blast it all, ye’re a wee bit tuckered out from all tha’ spell-slingin’ are ye?” She couldn’t respond, the words wouldn’t find their way to her lips, and she merely nodded her head. “Well come on then, lean on Gavren. After what ye did for me and mine, the least we can do is put ye up until ye’re feelin’ a bit more chipper!”

“Vae,” she mumbled, even as he helped her stand. With the difference in height, the best he could do was to offer her his shoulder, and he did so willingly, keeping a firm grip on her wrist as she let her weight lean down upon him. The Tram leveled off and began to slow, making its approach, and the din of the winds around them began to die off.

“You don’t worry about ‘er,” Gavren said softly as the terminal approached in the distance. “She looked the hardy sort, and I do nae imagine you’ve sent ‘er off somewhere dangerous, now ‘ave ye?” She shook her head, more lolled it from side to side if she were honest, and he reached up with his free hand to pat hers where it rested. “Then ye can go an’ get ‘er just as soon as ye’re all rested up.” The Tram car slowed to a terminal bustling with dwarves and gnomes, all of whose eyes seemed to widen at the lack of arcane protection around the cars. “Now ye just stick with us and let me do the talkin’, lass.” She didn’t have time to respond before a gnome came rushing up to the front platform, now the rear one, on which they stood. His hair was wispy and gray, and he wore a pair of thick, green-lensed goggles, which he promptly slid up to rest on his forehead, revealing two large dirt rings around his eyes about which, were she more conscious, Avrena might have chuckled.

“Mekkatorque’s great greased spanner, what _happened_ here?!” he blurted out as he approached, his hands wringing together uncomfortably at his waist. Gavren’s calm and comforting demeanor disappeared in an instant.

“I’ll _tell_ ye wha’ happened ‘ere,” he roared into the gnome’s face, causing him and everyone around to take a step back. “Yer fancy contraptions flickered out like a candle on me youngin’s birthday cake! Howlin’ winds makin’ him wail up a storm, no protection at all from ana’thing that could ‘ave come sailin’ through the air! Ye ought be ashamed o’ this ramshackle Tram!” The gnome’s hands worked even more furiously before he waved them frantically, calling a team of engineers to see to the problem.

“Oh dear…oh my…” he stammered, clearly uncomfortable with handling the furious dwarf that had confronted him. “I’m…I’m very sorry, sir!” Gavren laughed mirthlessly.

“Oh, are ye?! Are ye sorry? Ah, well then tha’ settles it all, don’t it?” He leaned in, his large nose almost touching the gnomes small one. “I want ye to refund me family’s fare, as well as this young lass’. Just _look_ at ‘er! Like to be her first time out ‘ere among us supposedly-civilized folk, and she’s got _this_ to deal with?!” The gnome jumped at Gavren’s tirade, waving over the ticket vendor and snatching gold crowns from her purse faster than she could protest. He shoved them towards Gavren with a terrified expression.

“Yes, yes, of course! Please, take a full refund with our deepest apologies, sir. And…if…if you wouldn’t mind…”

“Wha’?” The dwarf hissed. “Spit it out, ye wee lad!” The gnome shifted uncomfortably for a moment, looking around before whispering.

“P-Please don’t tell our manager about this…” Gavren grunted, shaking his head and shouldering the gnome as he brushed past him in a huff. Avrena walked with him, her head still swimming, and she fought the urge to vomit as soon as she set foot on solid ground once more. She met Gavren’s eyes, and he shot her a warm smile and held her wrist just a bit tighter as they crossed through the portal and into Ironforge proper. Some small part of her mind chided her for not taking in the people and architecture around her, but she was fighting just to maintain consciousness, and when after a few long minutes they arrived at Gavren’s home, she let him pull her arm downward so she could duck under the entryway. He led her to a remarkably comfortable sofa and set her gently down. Her head slumped to one side, and she stared across at Gavren as he stood before her, a warm smile on his face.

“Not bad, eh?” he asked with a chuckle.

“He’s been tryin’ ta join a performin’ troupe since he were nary more than a wee lad himself,” his wife called over to her sarcastically as she carried their now-sleeping child into a far room. Gavren laughed lightly in response, waving a dismissing hand to her back.

“Never ye mind her, lass. She’s just a mite _jealous_ of me impeccable skills.” A coarse laugh blurted out from the room, and he allowed himself another chuckle. Avrena shook her head slightly at him.

“Why?” she managed to get out. Her vision shook slightly, and she knew she didn’t have long before exhaustion claimed her. “You…do not…even know…me.” His smile saddened a bit, and he pointed to the room his wife had entered as his voice quieted.

“Did ye see what just walked through that doorway?” he whispered. “Ye put yerself right in harm’s way, right in the thick of it, to protect what’s more precious to me than ana’thing else.” He paused for a moment, shrugging to himself. “Tha’ be all I _need_ to know about ye, lass.” She returned his smile with a tired one of her own, nodding her head to him slightly in acceptance of his thanks. He stepped forward, pulling a ram-skin blanket over her body. “Ye sleep now, youngin’. On the morrow, we’ll work on findin’ yer friend. Til then, ye’re safe here; tha’ I promise ye.” She tried to nod but her body was having none of it. Her mind slipped into a fuzzy haze, and as sleep rushed up to claim her, her last thoughts were of Vae, and a simple prayer to the Light that she was safe.


	15. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry for the delay on this, real life has been hectic, but it's a bit calmer now.
> 
> Not really sure how I feel about this chapter. I'm happy with the overall flow of the story, but something about it seems off to me. Let me know if you think the same or if I'm just going crazy, haha.
> 
> Thanks for the reads and comments, I appreciate each and every one of you!

**~ 14 ~**

The muffled chirping of birds combined with the low, sonorous call of a moongraze buck outside the window slowly roused Vae from sleep. Her eyes immediately flicked around the room, taking in the exits and any items she might be able to use as improvised weapons, as they had been trained to, and she suppressed her instincts with a soft sigh, reaching upwards and behind her to stretch her arms. A dull pain lingered in them from the places where she’d been pierced by the cultist’s shadowy tendrils, but it was light enough to be shrugged off, and so that’s precisely what she did. Her wounds had been bound, and she shifted slightly on the bed as she inspected them. It was fine work, done carefully and with precision, and she smiled softly as she allowed her eyes to close again of their own accord. She wondered if this was how Avrena would have woken up in days past; soft sheets and lovely birds gently coaxing her to rise and meet the day. She’d have liked to wake up next to her, she thought, and it startled her. No, surely, she’d only meant that she envied Avrena the comfort of her bed, and the beautiful landscape around her. She hadn’t meant…well, only that…she shook her head as the conflicting thoughts and emotions made a maelstrom in her mind, and pressed her head back into the soft pillow with a sigh. She tried to push everything away, center herself as Rhaga had taught her, and slowly a semblance of tranquility came over her. She breathed deeply through her nose, the large intake of air bringing her the smells of something delicious being prepared. Her curiosity, and her appetite, were piqued, and after a moment she climbed to her feet and left the room, crossing hesitantly down the wide hallway and into a large living space.

Avrena’s father, Aksos, Vae recalled vaguely from before sleep had overcome her, stood over a large wooden bowl, preparing some ingredients and humming softly. Vae stood in the doorway for a moment, watching him work, and smiled. His light blue hands were large and strong, but moved with a surprising speed, and a delicate touch. From behind, Vae could see the long purple hair that matched his daughter’s exactly in shade, and likely would have hung well below his waist had he not kept it up in a high tail that crested far above his head before cascading back down like dark water over a cliff. The song he hummed was low, and somewhat sad to Vae’s ears, but when the feeling of being watched prodded him to turn around, he wore a smile on his face.

“Ah! By the Naaru’s will, she deigns to rejoin the waking world,” he called across to her in the thick accent she remembered from their previous conversation, and she laughed lightly, reaching up a hand to scratch an itch on her head.

“Yea, guess I’ll add them to the list of people I owe a favor. How long was I out?”

“Well, that depends,” he said, turning to face her fully as he wiped his hands on a small green towel he’d tucked into his belt. “Are we beginning the counting from when you actually fell asleep, or from the moment I noticed you nodding off in conversation?” She blushed, remembering only part of their conversation after she’d assured him of Avrena’s safety. She had talked of how they had met, and some of the adventures they’d had so far, and while he clearly wasn’t pleased that his daughter had been in danger, Vae did sense an underlying pride and even perhaps a bit of envy for what she’d already accomplished in her short time away from home. He gave her a sympathetic smile, and she returned it as she shook her head and replied.

“Let’s go with the former.” He nodded decisively in reply.

“Then, it has been nearly a full day, now.” He chuckled to himself. “Ah, the burden of youth. Most days I wish to the Naaru that _I_ could rest for such a length of time.” He gestured to the chair before her. “Please, sit. You are a friend of my daughter’s, and that makes you more than welcome in our home.” Vae did as she was told with a smile and a slight wince at the pain that shot through her right leg as she bent her knees to take the seat. Aksos noticed it with a slight nod. “Yes, that limb was a bit worse than the others, but it will heal in time, of this I am sure.” Vae looked away for a moment, still not entirely used to the kindness of strangers. The sort of good will and genuine assistance that wouldn’t be later traded for a favor from her or used in an argument to sway her mind. It was pure, kind, and she’d experienced far too few things that met that description in her life thus far.

“Thank you,” she all but whispered, “for patching me up. I’m…sorry if the sheets were…you know. Too bloody to keep.” Aksos chuckled lightly and waved away her apology.

“It was no trouble. You may not believe it, based on whatever Avrena has likely told you of me, but I was not always just the leatherworker at Azure Watch.” He smiled at her, and she nodded.

“You were a shaman,” she replied quietly, and the smile turned into an expression of surprise, his eyebrows arching up on his face.

“You know of us?” he asked, waving her to continue speaking as he turned to retrieve two plates of delicious-looking roasted vegetables and bits of cured moongraze meat. He set one on the table before her, then took a seat to her left, his plate seemingly forgotten the moment he set it down, and his attention solely on her face as she nodded.

“I recognize the ache from the magic that was used. I…had a friend, who was one. He was…like a father to me, you could say.” Aksos’ face turned up in confusion for a moment, and he put out a steady hand in pre-emptive apology for any offense he might cause her.

“You will forgive me, I think that I am not fully knowledgeable of your people, but I do not recall hearing that there are those among you who speak to the elements as we do.” She shook her head.

“No, I…lost my parents when I was very young. I was taken in by another of my kind, but she…” Vae sighed, her eyes opening wide in exasperation. “Well, _that’s_ a long story. I think the meat would be cold by the time I was done telling it.” She shot him a weak smile of apology, and Aksos merely chuckled, nodding that he understood she needed to skip a bit. Vae took one of the roasted potatoes and chewed it thoughtfully for a moment, savoring the wonderful herbs he had added to it before swallowing and continuing. “He was an orc.”

“Ah!” Aksos piped up, “those, I know well. I have many fond memories of their kind. Also, some less than fond ones…” he trailed off for a moment, then shook his head as if to clear it of a painful past. He perked back up quickly. “I had wondered from where you retrieved a set of Nagrand-tooled armoring.” He gestured to her armor, and she laughed lightly at her recollection of Avrena’s thorough dismantling of her false background with a nod.

“His name was Rhaga, of Garadar,” she said, her voice dropping in veneration. Pain stabbed at her again, all the things she had wanted to tell him as he lay bleeding in her arms, all the things for which she’d wanted to thank him. _You saved my life, you old stone,_ she thought to herself as she let silence hang in the air. _You kept my birth father alive in my heart, but you_ were _my father. And now you’re gone._ A tear formed in the corner of her eye, and Aksos clicked his tongue quietly as it fell, reaching across and wiping it away with a thick blue finger.

“This Rhaga of Garadar meant a great deal to you, I think,” he whispered, and she nodded, her eyes fixed on the plate of food before her.

“He taught me everything I know.” For a moment, silence hung thick in the air, and Vae’s mind rushed with memories of the two of them in better times. Training in the forests of Ashenvale, drinking and laughing together with Zillix and Kalos in the many taverns of the Bay. Waking before sunrise on mornings when he’d wanted to hone her endurance training, him practically pulling her out of bed by the ankle as she’d grumbled and sworn at him to leave her be, all of it drowned out by his damned wonderful booming laughter at her impertinence. Her concentration was broken, however, when Aksos placed his hand on her shoulder. She looked up, meeting his eyes, and the warm smile that lay beneath them. When he spoke, it was quiet, respectful, and sincere.

“Then it appears I owe a great debt to Rhaga of Garadar, for my daughter’s continued safety.” A short chuckle blurted out of her, and he smiled a bit deeper as she nodded.

“I think he’d be happy to have helped,” she whispered.

“Then he sounds to me like a being of great inner Light,” he replied, squeezing her shoulder a bit in support. “Never forget him. Honor what he stood for. Honor who he was.” Her chest felt struck with a hammer as she heard Rhaga’s own words of advice to her childhood self repeated now, years later. Her eyes widened as they met Aksos’, and he chuckled lightly, shrugging to ease her confusion. “You pick up a few other things when you trade with them as much as we did, in those days,” he said, and she smiled as even more tears threatened to fill her eyes. He lifted his hand, patting her shoulder gently before gesturing to the plate before her. “But here I sit denying you a warm meal. Please, eat, you must be starving.”

She nodded a thanks to him and picked her fork back up, continuing to partake of the simple yet delicious meal he’d prepared them. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as she just absorbed the peacefulness of the morning around her, and her mind began to slip into a wondering spell. Could it really be like this? Could it be this easy; quiet mornings, delicious food, beautiful birds singing the sun up above the horizon? She shook her head slightly with a single chuckle that Aksos didn’t seem to hear as he worked on his own plate. Perhaps if she’d been born in a different place, a different time. Perhaps if circumstances hadn’t led her down the path upon which she now found herself…She noticed with a start that she’d been staring into the table’s surface at nothing in particular, pushing half of a potato slice aimlessly around her plate as she thought. When she looked up, she found Aksos’ warm smile waiting for her.

“I can take that for you, if you’re finished,” he said quietly, and she placed the utensil back down neatly before standing with a wince.

“Not at all; in fact, give me yours.” The older draenei laughed, a deep sound that reminded her of Rhaga.

“Absolutely not! You are a guest in my house!”

She smirked back at him mischievously. “Well, I’ll be honest with you: being treated nicely is a bit of a new thing for me, and I’ve had almost as much as I can comfortably stand for the moment. So, let me do some work, yeah?” Aksos chuckled again, but eventually shrugged and handed her his plate as he stood and followed her to the small wash-basin beside where he had prepared the meal.

“Alright; you wash and I’ll dry.” She nodded in reply, and began to submerge the plates in water, scrubbing at them with a small buck-hair brush laying nearby. Right before her sat a window, and she looked out it once more as she cleaned, across the blue-green grass and past the throngs of draenei moving to and fro across the small settlement of Azure Watch. She pulled the first plate out of the basin and handed it to a waiting Aksos, who accepted it with a nod of thanks before starting in on it with the towel. “I do not believe I have met anyone who is uncomfortable being treated kindly…” he mused aloud as he dried the plate. “Is that a sentiment your people all share, or an…individual preference?” She glanced over to see his grin, and laughed quietly as one of her own formed on her face.

“Fuck me, she’s got that exact same grin when she thinks she’s being clever.” Aksos laughed in reply, and Vae returned her gaze forward, looking through the window as if it would allow her to look across the continent, past the Maelstrom, and straight into wherever Avvy had ended up. She shook her head again. “Was she always…like that? Able to just…find the good, or the amusing, in everything?” she asked quietly, handing him the pair of utensils they had used. He shrugged slightly as he took them from her.

“She was, for a time.” He paused for a moment, seemingly lost in thought, before continuing. “Her mother had the same quality. I have always been a draenei for whom satisfaction lies in repetition, in mastery. Chanting a call to the earth, working leather into yet another pair of bracers,” he gestured to her with the utensils he now held, “cleaning things again and again until you can do it flawlessly without a thought.” He paused for a moment, drying the items he held before sitting them down and leaning against the counter, his massive arms folding across his chest. “Avrena was never happy with simple; with repetitive. She craved new experiences, exciting knowledge, to soak up like a sponge. Ralenna always encouraged our daughter to seek these things out, and I was truly happy to see her finding her own path in life, even if it did tend to be closer to her mother’s than to mine.” He gave Vae a weak smile that she returned, drying her hands on a towel before turning to face Aksos and lean on the counter as well.

“Sure,” she replied quietly, “you just want your kid to be happy. I get it.”

“Yes,” he said, his eyes leaving hers and drifting off toward some dark, troubling place in his past. “When Ralenna was taken from us…” He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before fixating them on Vae once more. “Everything changed. Avrena’s love for adventure, her thirst for knowledge, it was snuffed out like a candle.” He raised one hand, snapping his fingers for emphasis before replacing it in the crook of the other. “She became withdrawn, closed-off. By the Light, looking back I cannot remember now a time when she spoke more than a handful of words in an entire day.” He shook his head once more before continuing. “Raising a child is not a matter of repetition,” he said quietly, a painful tone entering his voice. “I…was never the best father to Avrena, but I loved her deeply. I still do.” His eyes seemed to almost beg Vae to believe him, and she nodded in reply. After a long pause, he sighed heavily and spoke again. “I could not be the one to pull her back from whatever dark place Ralenna’s passing had sent her toward. She needed the adventure, the new experiences that she used to crave. And she needed a warmer heart to show her the way.”

“Hokuul,” Vae whispered across to him. His eyes met hers, and he nodded in reply.

“Hokuul’s father Venourin and I have been friends for longer than I can remember. When I heard the news that he would be leaving for Stormwind, the largest city in all the territory this Alliance controls…I thought it would be just the thing to help Avrena. Hokuul is…” he trailed off, and Vae let a single small laugh snort out of her.

“Overbearing? Clingy? Persistent? Kinda dumb?” She tried to think of more adjectives, but Aksos held up a hand, begging her to stop even as he let a short chuckle escape himself.

“Yes. I know. All of these things. And yet, his journey was the best way to give my daughter what I thought she needed more than anything.” He turned to move back toward the table, pulling a chair out for himself and slumping into it. Vae followed, taking up the chair she’d previously used as well. A long silence hung between them, Aksos staring into the table’s surface and Vae appraising his expressions, before she prodded him quietly.

“Obviously something changed.” His eyes flicked to hers, and he nodded.

“Just before they were to leave, she came to me. She had been furiously silent with me for days after learning what was to happen, so I was surprised, of course.” Vae nodded, and he continued. “She said…many things. Things about me, about herself, about Ralenna…and when she finished, I realized that if I were to continue with the arrangement, I might save my daughter, but at the cost of losing her love forever. She understood _why_ I was doing what I was, but…”

“She didn’t need you to save her from herself,” Vae whispered across to him. It was his turn to breathe a small laugh, and he nodded.

“Almost her exact words,” he replied. He took a deep breath and leaned back against the chair. “She made me see where I was wrong, and where I was right, just like her mother used to. So, I secreted her away, and enlisted the help of my oldest friend to get her off this island before anyone knew she had disappeared.” Vae perked up at the new information.

“So, someone else knows where she is?” Aksos chuckled and nodded.

“Only one other; someone with whom I could entrust any sec--” A low chiming noise interrupted Aksos, and Vae followed his gaze upwards to where a small, unobtrusive crystal dome sat in the ceiling of the room. It was softly pulsing a golden light, in contrast to the muted purples and blues around the rest of the home. Aksos chuckled and stood from the chair. “And as the Naaru’s will would have it, she has come to visit even as we speak of her.” Vae’s eyes widened slightly as she stood, moving unconsciously a few steps toward the safety of the hallway. Aksos noted her hesitation with a short nod of understanding, but extended her a reassuring hand to let her know all would be well before crossing to the door and opening it wide.

* * *

 

The faint sound of hammers clanging against anvils, the muffled conversations of a hundred groups of people all headed somewhere within the great city in the mountains, and the ever-present icy breeze all filtered through the doorway of the dwarven home, but it was the soft, gentle crackling of the fire in the hearth that roused Avrena gently from her sleep. Her eyes flitted open slowly, their soft white light adding to the otherwise minimal illumination in the room; the fire seeming the only source of light. She sat up slowly, pulling the thick woolen blanket tighter around herself as she shivered slightly in the chill air.

“Good mornin’!” a hushed voice whispered across to her, and she turned to see Gavren’s wife standing just outside their child’s room. Her arms were folded across her chest, and a warm smile played across her face. Avrena returned it, waving meekly before shivering, an action that earned a chuckle from the dwarven woman. “Aye, it can be a bit chilly if yer not used ta’ it.” She gestured out the front door of their home. “Should have a walk around the Great Forge, tha’ll warm ye right up!” Avrena found her eyes following the woman’s finger, and peeking out into the bustling traffic beyond the doorway.

“I should find the mages,” she said absently, before shaking her head to dispel the fog of just having woken up. She turned back to the woman. “I should find the mages, and see if any of them know of a way to return me to Azuremyst.” The woman hissed softly, her head twisting to the side in uncertainty.

“Still a bit new, tha’ place is. I doubt they’d ‘ave a portal set up just yet, but worth a look. Ye’ll find ‘em just past the main district, left as you head out.” She smiled, bringing her finger upwards to trace a large ring in the air between them. “Whole city’s a big circle, ye cannae get too lost.” Avrena nodded with a smile, and pulled the blanket from her shoulders, folding it and placing it neatly back on the couch.

“Please let Gavren know how much I appreciate what he…what you both…have done for me.” The woman waved away her thanks.

“Madness, tha’. Ye saved our lives, the wee one included. If ye ever need ana’thing, you come to us, now.” Avrena chuckled lightly, and nodded her head before turning to leave. She ducked beneath the shoulder-height doorway and out into the main space of Ironforge.

The city may have been a ring, but it was a sprawling one, with main lanes wide enough for ten elekk to stand side-by-side and still be comfortable. The ceilings were carved rock, and reminded her of the Tram’s, chipped away from the heart of a mountain who knows how many centuries ago. She wandered through the city, taking in the magnificent architecture with a sense of awe. She earned many interesting glances from the dwarves who walked the main thoroughfares, but most were followed with a friendly smile or a wave, and those that weren’t she simply ignored. Passing by the Great Forge, she was pleased to see a few of her people there, learning what they could from the master smiths among the dwarven people. She walked past the bank and auction house, amazed by the sea of people moving about, and constantly watching her step. This city teemed with life, and compared to the much more open spaces of the Exodar, she felt almost trapped within its populace.

After a few long minutes of traversing the crowds, she arrived at the mage’s building just past the central square, and although it was clearly proclaimed by a stone-worked sign hanging from the building’s façade, she would have been able to tell this place from much farther away. Magical energy radiated from within its stone walls, and she could feel it washing over her like the gentle, lapping waves of a calm sea. She closed her eyes as she felt the aura push over and through her, making her skin buzz with its latent power. Time seemed to slow to a crawl, and her brief respite was only interrupted when she heard a low chuckling before her. She opened her eyes to regard its source, a dwarven man who stood in flowing blue robes, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against one of the columns outside the building. His hair was shoulder-length and black as night, gathered up behind his head in a short ponytail. His moustache was full and extended near past his cheeks, and his beard was intricately braided into six thick strands that weaved together and fell to just below his waistline. His laughter caused the whole thing to shake a bit, and she smiled at the genuine mirth in his features.

“I’ll tell ye a secret,” he whispered to her, leaning in for added effect. “Sometimes, when I’m the first one ta get here in the mornin’, I do the exact same thing.” He leaned back with another chuckle as Avrena felt heat rise into her cheeks.

“Ah…yes, I apologize. I had over-extended myself recently, and it just…well, it…”

“It felt nice,” the dwarf finished for her. She chuckled lightly.

“Yes, I suppose it did.” The dwarf nodded, waving her over.

“Grimmand Volstock, one o’ the conservators here. Come on in and tell us how we can help ye.”

She followed the dwarf into the enclave. A few portals sat in the corners of the rooms, minded by other conservators, and the vaulted ceiling revealed a second-floor balcony where younger mages, apprentices she assumed, were being given lectures in arcane coordination and rune-scribing.

“Well,” she began, still taking in her surroundings as Grimmand turned to face her, his arms folding once more across his chest. “I’m attempting to make a portal back to Azuremyst Isle, but I can’t seem to make it work.” Grimmand’s brow furrowed.

“And ye’re sure of yer coordinates?” She nodded in reply.

“Yes, I had just made a portal there hours beforehand, but it appears I can no longer create one.”

Grimmand stroked his long black beard in thought. After a long moment, he shrugged his shoulders. “It should nae be any different comin’ from ‘ere.” He gestured to the space between them. “Show me what you’ve got, lass.”

Avrena held her hands forward, pulling latent arcane energy from the ley-points around the room into the negative space between them. An orb of shimmering energy formed there, and she rotated her hands slowly, continuing to pull and push in order to maintain a perfect orb. Within the ball of energy, landscapes and visages from within her mind surged and flowed, overlapping and merging into one another. Avrena gritted her teeth, focusing her mind on the room in her father’s house. Once the image began to coalesce in the sphere she held, she pulled her hands slowly apart, stretching it into an oval-shaped window. A small smile formed on her face as she could see through the portal and out her bedroom window to the woods of Azuremyst, and then just as suddenly as it had sprung to life, the magical construct snapped back in on itself with a resounding boom that shook the very walls of the building. A few sharp cries of surprise came from different areas of the building, and above them Avrena could see many dwarves leaning over the balcony railings to see what had transpired. Avrena heaved breaths, feeling as if she’d just run for days, and Grimmand clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“Seems yer unstable there, lass.”

“Unstable?” she managed to reply between breaths. Grimmand offered her a seat as the rest of the building’s denizens returned to what they’d been doing beforehand, and she took it with a nod of thanks.

“Aye. Somethin’ here, or more likely somethin’ _there_ , it’s interferin’ with yer spellcastin’.” He stared at the space where the portal had hung moments before, then turned to face her fully. “Ye know the place yer tryin’ ta connect with. Is there ana’thing there that could make spellcastin’ problematic?” Avrena looked away from his eyes as her breathing returned to normal, shaking her head absently.

“No, I do not believe there could be…” her eyes shot open wide in realization. “Oh no,” she whispered to herself. Grimmand leaned in, a curious expression on his face.

“What’s got ye so terrified, lass?” She shook her head, still not meeting his gaze.

“Not ‘what’. ‘Who’.” Grimmand shrugged and chuckled again, his braid shaking with the gesture.

“Alright then; who?”

* * *

“Aethera,” Aksos called beyond the entryway, “it is good to see you again.” He reached out to clap his hand in greeting on the shoulder of the draenei woman just beyond the door, and her hand came through to rest on his as well. From her vantage point in the hallway, Vae could make out the heavy plate gauntlet she wore, gleaming in the sunlight. As the woman stepped into Aksos’ home, however, a cold pit formed in Vae’s stomach. The Shroud, which felt constantly just out of the corner of her eye, seemed to recede away, and its absence left an uneasy feeling within her. Aethera crossed the threshold, her full plate armor clinking slightly as she moved.

“And you, my friend,” she replied with a warm smile. She turned her head then, taking in Vae, and the smile turned up a bit into confusion. “Ah, Aksos, I did not realize you already had a guest. My apologies.” For his part, Avrena’s father simply laughed, waving a hand to dismiss her apology.

“Nonsense, Aethera. This is Vaelyth, a friend of my daughter’s. She…just dropped in recently.” He moved to stand between them, gesturing toward the woman. “Vaelyth, Aethera. She…was Ralenna’s closest friend, and has continued to be the same for us now, as well.” Vae smiled politely, nodding to Aethera, who returned the gesture.

“I was not solely Ralenna’s friend, Aksos,” she said quietly, though her smile softened the blow of her correction, and he nodded along apologetically. She turned back to face Vae then, meeting her gaze and yet somehow still exuding an appraising aura. The distance that the Shroud had given her, and the empty pit it left in her stomach, only increased the closer the woman stood, and by now she was certain that her mind was not playing tricks on her. Everything felt…slower…around Aethera; she imagined if she pulled a dagger and hurled it away from her, it might yet take an hour to reach the wall of the house. Her train of thought was interrupted, however, when the woman continued. “Well, Avrena must be doing well out on her own, if she is already making friends willing to trust her with a portal.” She winked at Vae, who allowed a small smile to cross her lips in response.

“Yea,” she replied quietly. “She’s, ah…she’s something else.” The empty pit in her stomach was twisting around, and she had to give real effort to not grimacing in discomfort. Aethera seemed to notice anyway, and took the smallest step closer to her.

“You seem uncomfortable, Vaelyth. Is everything alright?” Vae nodded, folding her arms across her chest and leaning against the nearby door frame.

“Yea, just fine. I think, ah…lunch may be disagreeing with me. No offense, Aksos.” She added quickly, holding out a disarming hand in his direction. He shrugged off the words, but his good mood seemed to be lost, and all his attention was now focused squarely on Aethera, who took another carefully measured step towards Vae. The knots in the elf’s stomach only twisted harder, the Shroud seeming even further out of reach.

“No, I do not believe it was the food,” she continued in a pleasant tone, despite being clearly aware of Vae’s situation. “Aksos is one of the best draenei I have ever seen handle a cut of meat. More likely, it is the loss of the twisted magic that lies draped over you which has you concerned.” Vae shifted uncomfortably, looking away, and Aethera folded her arms across her chest. “Yes, I can see it, as could any other well-trained Vindicator, or even a passable mage. Aksos believes you to be a friend of Avrena’s, and he has always been an excellent judge of character, so I will tell you that your discomfort is caused by this.” Her hand moved gracefully to a softly-glowing golden shard that hung from a chain around her neck.

“Alright,” Vae replied quietly, appraising the other woman with narrowed eyes. “So what _is_ that?” A small smile split Aethera’s lips, and she gave the slightest of shrugs.

“We still do not know for sure, though it has been with our people for thousands of years. It suppresses magic of all kinds, but its range is incredibly limited, so it must be worn to be used. I was deemed worthy of carrying it, for a time.” She paused for a moment, seemingly ensuring that her explanation would suffice. When Vae only nodded in reply, she continued, turning back to face Aksos. She spoke quickly then, and in their native tongue, and so Vae simply stood, her nerves frayed and watching Aksos’ eyes move between the two women as he answered her statements with his own. After a long moment, she turned to look back at Vae, her own eyes narrowing in appraisal, and Aksos spoke.

“Vaelyth…Aethera believes that you have brought something dangerous into my home.” Vae’s eyes widened for a moment, and she pointed a thumb behind her down the hallway.

“Well, yea. I’ve got about a dozen blades back there in all shapes and sizes.” He shook his head. She couldn’t speak a word of their language, but she knew exactly what Aethera had meant.

“She means…something very…powerful. In the Light.”

* * *

“Lass, I’ve told ye already, it’s nae about t—”

“Yes! I heard you!” Avrena cut Grimmand off before he could chide her again, and shivered for the third time in as many minutes as she rubbed her hands together to push back the cold. The pair of them stood out on the icy approach to Ironforge, after Avrena had insisted on attempting the portal again. “More space,” Grimmand had said. “Less embarrassment,” she had heard.

But she didn’t care at all about being embarrassed. Avrena knew Aethera’s schedule by heart. If she was at their home now, it was because something had drawn her there, and she could only think of one thing that could have that kind of pull over a Vindicator of the Light. Her people did not take kindly to thievery in general, but with relics of the Light? There was a solid chance she’d never see Vae again, whether Aethera considered her family or not. And it was _her_ fault, she thought angrily as she pulled in the latent arcane energy around them once more. _She_ had sent Vae there with the tome, without thinking. The field snapped in on itself once more with a boom that was much less pronounced here in the open air, and she could see Grimmand scowl in concern out of the corner of her eye. She growled, putting her hands together again and then once more ripping apart a hole in the fabric of reality. It swirled and churned, then collapsed in again. She roared in frustration, conjuring a spike of ice without thinking and hurling it into a nearby tree. It showered snow down from its branches, and Grimmand chuckled as he dusted it out of his beard. Avrena frowned at him.

“I…am sorry, Grimmand. I did not realize…I just _have_ to make this work.” The dwarf gave a heavy sigh, then shook his head.

“Way it looks t’me lass, wha’ever’s on the other side o’ tha’ portal ye’re tryin’ ta make is a mite stronger than ye are. Ye can be sure no full-sized portal’ll hold its own against it.” She shook her head, squeezed her eyes shut for a long moment in frustration, and when the idea landed softly in her mind, it was as a feather touching the ground.

“Full-sized!” she yelled, startling Grimmand, who had begun to light a pipe.

“Hmm?” he replied, the stem still hanging from his lips.

“Full-sized,” she replied, stepping away and putting her hands together again. She pulled them away slowly, focusing all the energy into a much smaller space. “I will…need…your help,” she managed to say, the effort of keeping energy enough for a full portal in such a confined space straining her. Grimmand crossed over to her.

“Say the word, lass.”

The orb of energy pulsed and roiled against her hands as she struggled to keep it contained. Sweat dripped down her brow, and for a moment the whole thing shimmered as if about to collapse again. She gritted her teeth and poured every ounce of concentration she had into the spell, and with a soft snap, a hole in reality the size of a plate opened between them. Grimmand let out a small hoot of excitement, and Avrena allowed herself a small triumphant smile as her bed came into focus. She pulled and twisted the window between her hands, until the satchel laying on the floor was clearly visible.

“There!” she whispered to him, and the dwarf’s hands shot forward, weaving magic of his own. Through the portal, she could see another small portal begin to form on the floor beneath the satchel, and beside her Grimmand muttered in his native tongue; a curse, she guessed from his tone, as he struggled against the same suppression she did. His portal wavered and shook, but eventually snapped into place, the satchel falling through it, and its strap falling around her neck from a portal above her head a moment later. She jumped in surprise at the feeling, and her lapse in concentration caused the portal to shatter. The collapsing energy rushed outward, knocking them both off their feet, and when the din of the explosion settled, it was replaced by Grimmand’s laughter. Avrena pulled the satchel around, found the tome inside it, and breathed a sigh of relief as she rested her hand against it. After a moment, she glared at Grimmand, although she smiled along with it.

“Ye…ye should have seen yer face, lass.” He managed between laughs, and after a moment he crossed over to help her up, wiping his eye with a thick finger before picking up his pipe and dusting it off. He packed it in silence, the only sound between them the rushing mountain air, and when he’d finished, he patted around his pockets looking for a match. Avrena laughed quietly at the disheveled dwarf, and held out her fingers, snapping them together and summoning a small flame for him. He nodded his thanks to her, and crossed to one of the barrels sitting outside the front gates, hoisting himself up and patting the vacant one next to him. Avrena leaned against it, folding her arms across her chest and staring out across the pines. “So,” he spoke up once he was comfortable, “what now?”

“Now,” she replied with a soft sigh. “We wait.”


	16. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Author's Note***
> 
> Hello again!
> 
> I think I must have re-read the novel in its entirety three or four times, checking every conversation that Talian/Liadrin ever had, every flashback or off-handed comment, and referenced the timeline I've made for these characters countless times, just to ensure that this chapter, and the Interlude that follows it, line up correctly. So please tell me if you feel that they don't, but just know that doing so will mentally devastate me. =P
> 
> Hope you all enjoy the double-header I've got for you here. As always, thanks for the reads, reviews, and PM's!

**~ 15 ~**

The sounds of the gathering forces in the sun-bathed courtyard of Farstriders’ Square almost drowned out the sounds of Redemption’s hooves as he galloped through the southern gate. The horse slowed slightly, making for his familiar private stable, and Liadrin swung herself down from the saddle as he moved, smoothly hitting the ground and transitioning her momentum into a run. She cast her wide-eyed gaze around the square, meeting the myriad bows and salutes of the blood knights donning their armor and sharpening their weapons as she made her way up the stairs and into the Hall of Blood. Halduron was there to meet her, handing her a small stack of reports as he fell into step beside her.

“Good to see you again,” he said quietly, and a small chill ran down her spine at the complete lack of any mirth or good humor in his voice. For as long as she’d known him, Halduron had always been ready with a quick-witted jab or a lopsided smile that could often infuriate one to be on the receiving end of, and so on the rare occasions that he fell into complete seriousness, she knew the situation that provoked it would be grim.

“He already knows,” she replied; certain of the answer. “How?” In reply, Halduron nodded further on down the hall, and when Liadrin followed his gaze, she could see the pair of Forsaken speaking with Lor’themar, their frayed robes and withered staves enough of an indicator of their skillset for her to understand.

“Sylvanas has had her own scouts in the field,” he replied, leering at the visitors. “They figured it out about the same time as you did, I imagine. Arrived early this morning; by breakfast Lor’themar had the whole city rushing to war.” The scowl he wore as he spoke seemed less for the Forsaken themselves, and more for the fact that they’d, seemingly with apparent ease, convinced Lor’themar of something Halduron had been unable to for some time now.

She let her eyes linger on him for a long moment as they walked, and he turned his head to meet her gaze, giving her a soft smile and a nod that told her he would be fine. She smiled back, then looked down to read through the reports as they continued onward.

“Requisitions from Fairbreeze, letters of allied intent from the Forsaken…a withdrawal from the Underlight Mines?” She paused to look back at Halduron, who simply nodded as he looked forward. Liadrin shook her head in dismay. “The gnolls have been hammering that place for months now; we’re just going to abandon it?”

“Have to,” he replied just as quietly, casting his gaze around the hall as they walked. Along the walls stood a retinue of guards, men and women fiercely loyal to the Order who saluted her as she passed, yet he still discussed their plans at a whisper. “The Forsaken have agreed to help us reclaim it once the trolls are dealt with. If you ask me, we rely too heavily on a foreign power’s presence in our homeland.” She looked up from the papers to find him waiting for her gaze, to gauge her reaction.

“I can understand that,” she replied, and his eyes seemed to soften in relief for a moment. “But we’re still in a rough spot after everything our people have endured. For the moment, I think it wise to accept the aid they offer. We need allies right now.” Halduron nodded reluctantly, and she shot him a warm smile that seemed to disarm him well enough, and which he returned in kind. They entered through the small staircase into the large map room in the back of the Hall, taking their places around the edges of the table.

“Alright,” Lor’themar said with a soft sigh as they approached. “We’re all here, so let’s hammer out the details.” He cast his gaze around the table, taking in Liadrin, Halduron, and the two Forsaken mages before settling back on the Ranger-General. “First order: apologies. Halduron, you’ve been warning me of this threat for weeks now, and I’ve done everything except heed your counsel on it. Now, it seems that inaction is going to cost us more than I’d have liked to pay. I’m truly sorry, my friend.” Liadrin glanced to Halduron out of the corner of her eye, and smiled at the face she saw there. Grim determination played across the Ranger-General’s face, but the gleam in his eye was one of unbridled respect and admiration for the humility their leader showed; a re-affirmation of just why they all chose to follow him. For his part, he simply nodded to the Regent Lord, a gesture which Lor’themar returned respectfully. “Now then, let’s talk strategy.” One of the Forsaken took a step forward, reaching out to point a desiccated finger at a small ridge-line on the map.

“The Lady has her Dark Rangers stationed here, keeping a vigil on the main troll encampment, here.” He slid his finger across the map and into the eastern mountain ranges.”

“We’ll need to coordinate with them to arrange scouting parties,” Halduron said absently. “Who is in command of the rangers there?” The Forsaken mage looked at him for a long moment, and Liadrin could almost have imagined a small amount of mirth in his hollow, yellow eyes.

“Who else? The Blightcaller,” the mage replied. Lor’themar scoffed quietly, shaking his head. For his part, Halduron only nodded thoughtfully.

“I had thought Nathanos relegated to the Plaguelands,” the Regent Lord whispered. Liadrin remained quiet, watching the scene unfold. She knew of Nathanos Marris’ history with the Farstriders, and with Lor’themar specifically, and was not surprised to see the bad blood rising to the surface once more, but she personally took no umbrage with the human, or Forsaken now, she supposed. The other mage in attendance, a woman, turned her head to Lor’themar and spoke in a gritty rasp that chilled Liadrin. It was clear that whatever had caused her death had done damage irreparable to her throat; even through the raising process.

“The Dark Lady deemed the situation vital to Thalassian stability. She does not send a pup to do the job of a wolf, Regent Lord.” She inclined her head the very smallest amount in questionable respect, and Lor’themar only narrowed his eyes.

“Regardless,” Halduron continued, staring across at Lor’themar as he spoke, “we’ll need to work with him if the threat has truly grown as large as both Sylvanas’ and our own scouts report.” Lor’themar waved a hand to dismiss his own irritation.

“I trust your judgment, of course, Halduron.”

“Oh? Mark the calendar,” the Ranger-General shot back. Liadrin chuckled before she could help herself, and while Lor’themar did not laugh, he did flash a grin at his old friend while shaking his head. Halduron let the moment hang for a moment, before reaching forward to place markers that indicated Sin’dorei and Forsaken forces.

A little over an hour passed as they discussed strategy and the plans of attack they would make. Liadrin chimed in with her knowledge of the nerubian’s venom, and the Forsaken offered to lead the charge, as it would likely have no effect on their ranks. With war plans settled, the conversation quickly turned to protecting the populace.

“Aside from the Retreat,” Halduron said with a heavy sigh as he leaned back from the stance he’d adopted over the map for some time now, “we don’t have any villages directly in harm’s way; for the moment, their presence seems concentrated on the eastern shore.” Liadrin’s eyes widened for a moment, and she stepped forward, placing her finger silently on Sunvale Enclave as she turned her head to meet Halduron’s gaze with an icy one of her own. “Oh,” he replied meekly. “Sorry, of course you’re correct, Liadrin. I’ll be honest…I still haven’t quite gotten used to the fact that the Enclave is no longer abandoned.” She nodded to him in forgiveness, removing her hand from the map.

“And the likelihood that the Scourge forces will move north to challenge it?” Lor’themar asked. Halduron tilted his head in uncertainty, but the Forsaken woman spoke before he could.

“Very.” All eyes turned to her, and she met them all in turn before continuing. “Once we strike at the Scourge there, and they realize their toxins won’t work as well as they’d hoped; once you begin depleting their ranks, they’ll look for new meat to add to the pile.” She stabbed her finger to the Elrendar River. “To the south, a large river, and the most fortified city in Quel’thalas outside of the one in which we now stand.” She moved her finger again. “To the east, the ocean.” Another move. “To the west, our allied forces, entrenched and ready to destroy them.” Slowly, she slid her bony finger to rest atop Sunvale Enclave. “And to the north, a recently-populated village of ill-equipped, half-trained refugees.” Her eyes met Lor’themar’s levelly. “Where would _you_ choose to strike?” A quiet moment hung in the air between all of them, and Lor’themar turned to Liadrin, speaking quietly.

“Is the Order combat-ready?” She met his gaze with a firm one of her own.

“The Order is always ready to defend Quel’Thalas, Regent Lord. And last I heard, the Enclave is now Quel’Thalas once more.” He nodded.

“Then marshal the Blood Knights, and make for Sunvale. If we’re going to trap the Scourge from three sides, I want to make damn sure we cover the fourth, as well.” She nodded sharply, and Lor’themar stood back to his full height. “Alright, everyone has their orders. Let’s make this quick and clean; I don’t want any more casualties than is required. Sun’s grace, but our people have lost enough already to these bastards.”

“Understood, Regent Lord,” Halduron replied quietly. Liadrin nodded as well, and the Forsaken man spoke up.

“We can create portals to move your troops quickly; our mages have been mapping this land since we arrived.”

“Excellent,” Lor’themar replied. “I’ll reach out to our forces on Quel’Danas as well, now that the Sunwell is protected once again; perhaps they can spare some troops for us. I appreciate the assistance the Forsaken have offered; please inform the Banshee Queen that Silvermoon does not forget her service in her previous life, and will not forget her aid in this one.” He paused for a moment, staring at the pair of Forsaken before continuing in a quieter tone. “And neither do I.” The Forsaken nodded in reply before turning to leave, and Lor’themar followed them out, clapping a hand on Halduron’s shoulder in passing. When they had the room to themselves, Halduron let out a massive sigh. Liadin smiled despite the situation, patting him on the back.

“Everything alright?”

Halduron chuckled, balling up a fist and working it into the small of his back to relieve some tension there. “I should be asking you that, Liadrin. I’m sorry, about the Enclave. Truly, I didn’t mean to—” he cut off when she held up her hand, shaking her head softly to forgive him. He sighed once more, quieter this time. “I know you don’t like being taken off the front line.”

She shrugged in reply. “I’m sure it’s not where most of the Knights would choose to be, but it’s a job just as important.”

He smiled knowingly and nodded. “Well, if it helps at all, I promise I’ll keep Talian safe for you.” She snorted a laugh in response before turning to leave. Confusion played over his face as he turned to follow her. “What?” She turned mid-stride, continuing to walk backwards as she grinned back at the Ranger-General.

“Good luck getting him to let you.”

* * *

_“Don’t think that can get much sharper, unless you’re looking to injure the air itself.” Kalos called over to him with a grin as he stepped over to take a seat by the fire. Talian shot him a sharp glare, but it quickly fell into a smile when his brother simply laughed in response._

_“Yea, I know. It’s just…peaceful, you know? Something simple that I can just do without thinking. Let my mind wander.” His brother chuckled quietly._

_“Wander to where, Tal? We’re in the middle of the woods, living off lynx meat for the past three days, which by the way is most certainly_ not _my favorite, waiting for a contact who may or may not ever show up. What could_ possibly _be more interesting than our present situation?” Kalos’ sarcasm rolled off his back, but his cheeks reddened at his mind’s most immediate response to the question. He shifted uncomfortably on the mossy log upon which he sat, and shrugged._

_“Nothing in particular, just wandering.” Kalos chuckled again as he reclined on the grass on the opposite side of the fire. A long silence hung between them, the chirping of nocturnal insects the only sound in the air around them, and then Kalos shook his head._

_“Why don’t you just talk to her?” The question hit him suddenly, though he knew he should have been expecting it; his brother was neither unintelligent nor unobservant. He sighed, leaning the razor-sharp blade against the log and putting the sharpening stone back into his pouch._

_“You know why, Kalos. Don’t ask stupid questions.”_

_“No, not this time,” his brother snapped back at him as he sat up to meet his gaze. “Father is the reason for the vast majority of complications we face in society, I’ll grant you that, but you’re not allowed to use him as an excuse for this. This is all you, Tal.” Talian glared across the fire at him, but his brother simply met his gaze. He both admired and hated the resolve his brother possessed._

_“Sun’s grace, Kalos; what exactly do you think is going to happen? I’m going to sweep her off her feet and we’ll stroll into Silvermoon, arm in arm, and the whole of Quel’thalas will cheer and sing for us?” Kalos chuckled again._

_“I mean…_ that _would be a sight to see, surely.” He paused for a moment, letting the silence soften the blow. “Tal…she hasn’t been here long, but I think she’s already proven she doesn’t care what house name you’ve got stuck to you. I mean, look where she comes from. She doesn’t even have a family of her own anymore; why would you think she’d judge you for yours?” Talian shook his head softly._

_“That’s a low blow, Kalos.”_

_“It wasn’t meant as an attack, brother. It’s simply the truth of the situation. You two spend every possible minute together already; there’s got to be something there, right?” Talian sighed audibly._

_“Of course, we spend all our time together; you and I are the only people she really knows, and she’s the only person who will give us the time of day, thanks to father.” He shook his head, and his brother nodded, ceding the point to him. Talian paused for a long moment before continuing in a much quieter tone. “And she shouldn’t even be doing as much as she is. She has a bright future ahead of her. She’s come from nothing, and she’s already a well-respected acolyte within Silvermoon. With the right connections, the right smiles and handshakes…” he shook his head, a small smile forming on his lips. “She could be_ anyone _, Kalos. She could really make a name for herself.”_

_The smile faded then, and he turned his head to stare out into the forests around them, bathed in darkness and only illuminated sporadically by the crackling fire. Shadows danced among the trees, an ever-moving mural of light and darkness. “Associating with me, with us, only endangers that. And I won’t be the reason for her life being destroyed a second time; I can’t be. Not when she’s just starting to get back on her feet.” He turned back to meet his brother’s eyes once more. “I care about her far too much for that.” A long silence hung between them again, and it was eventually broken by Kalos’ sigh._

_“Alright, I suppose I understand. I don’t like it, but I get it.” He paused for a moment, then shook his head with a mumble. “Fucking Caresian.” Talian could only snort a pained laugh and nod along._

_“Yea. Fucking Caresian.” After a moment, Talian smiled across to Kalos before gesturing toward him with his hand._

_“What about you, then? Have your eye on anyone?” Kalos shrugged, looking off into the forest._

_“No, not really.” Talian’s eyes narrowed; he’d always known when his brother was lying, though that street ran both ways, as well. He smiled as he tossed another small branch into the fire, prodding the base with a small stick he had on-hand. He glanced back to Kalos, who still sat watching the trees, and smiled._

_“I hear tell that the younger of the Dawnrunner sisters defeated the captain of the Silvermoon guard in a sparring match not a week ago,” he ventured gently, poking the roaring blaze as he watched his brother tense up ever so slightly. He grinned to himself. “They say that she’s the most beautiful elf to ever take up a sword; can you imagine?”_

_“Shut up,” Kalos mumbled from across the fire, though even in the dark of night, Talian could swear he saw his brother’s face redden._

_“Ah, so you_ can _imagine…” he teased, leaning back and folding his arms across his chest._

_“Talian,” Kalos called over to him._

_“I can see it now,” he mused over top of his brother’s protest, spreading his hands in front of him to frame the imaginary scene. “The two of you sparring in the midday sun, blades clashing, sweat pouring.”_

_“Talian!” Kalos called out once again, but he simply grinned and ignored him._

_“She’s more than your match, that’s for sure. But something about your calm, collected nature puts her off-balance. Your roguish charm and good looks distract her from fully committing to the fight, giving you the slight edge needed to hold your own. ‘Kalos Sunvale,’ she whispers breathlessly between rounds, ‘I don’t believe I’ve ever crossed blades with one quite as skilled…or handsome…as yourself. Tell me, what_ is _your secret to such martial and physical perfection?’”_

_A deep chuckle called out to both of them from beyond the firelight’s edge, and Talian started, grabbing his sword and seeking out the source. An older elf stepped into the light, a small smile on his face and a large coin purse on his belt. His hair was jet black, and swept over the crown of his head to hang as far as the nape of his neck. His thick arms were folded across his chest, but a welcoming smile played across his lips as he approached. “Well,” he called out to them, “I’m going to assume from that tale you’re spinning that you’re the Sunvale contacts I’m supposed to meet.” Talian looked to Kalos, who simply shot him a glare and stood to retrieve the crate of supplies they’d stolen from their father’s storehouse. Talian stood and crossed to the newcomer, shaking his hand._

_“Talian,” he said, nodding over his shoulder. “My brother, Kalos.” He gestured with the blade he held before leaning it back against his pack. “You’ll have to forgive us for being a bit jumpy. As it would happen, you’re our very first attempt at this, Lord…ah…”_

_“Just Aedmyre,” the elf replied, waving away Talian’s apology. He shook his head softly. “When they told me a pair of Sunvale were stealing from Caresian to help supply the rest of Quel’thalas, I hardly believed it. Sun’s grace, I volunteered to be the first to meet you just to see it with my own eyes. Imagine my surprise when it turns out they’re his own sons.” Talian chuckled and shrugged._

_“Let’s just say there’s no love lost there, friend.” Aedmyre simply nodded._

_“I can understand that; he’s…a hard person to deal with. I practically give away a quarter of my horses every year just to keep our protection agreement. Were the Amani not still on every elf’s mind and lips, I’d have half a mind to tell Caresian where he can stick his so-called protection.” He shook his head in irritation before sending a reassuring smile back across to Talian. “But, at least they’re dealt with now, right?” Talian nodded._

_“That’s what I hear. Hopefully it stays that way.” Aedmyre chuckled in response._

_“From your lips to the sun above, friend. Either way, I can only imagine living with the bastard.”_

_“Daily struggle,” Kalos grunted as he placed the crate down at Aedmyre’s feet. “But we’ve decided to do what we can to help, regardless. We know the eastern villages were hit hard by the trolls.” Aedmyre nodded in reply._

_“Well, the rest of us appreciate it more than you know. But if Caresian catches you…” he trailed off, and Talian simply nodded in understanding. The potential unpleasant consequences were ones that the brothers had discussed many times over before deciding the risk was worth it._

_“We know. And yet,” he paused, spreading his arms wide, “here we are.” Aedmyre chuckled in reply._

_“Well, then you’re braver than I; and probably a sight more foolish, as well.” That earned grins from the brothers, and he shook his head as he continued. “If you ever need a safe haven, my home is open to both of you.” Talian nodded in appreciation, but his face became a mask of confusion when he saw Kalos’ face redden even more in response. Aedmyre chuckled again, and Talian suddenly felt very strongly that there was a fact of which he was the only one unaware. He shrugged off the feeling with a bit of difficulty._

_“If you need anything else, you know how to contact us,” he said in reply. Aedmyre nodded his thanks, picking up the crate and beginning to walk away. After a few steps, though, he turned with a grin on his face._

_“Oh, and son?” Aedmyre called back._

_“Yes?” Talian replied._

_“Never in her entire life has my daughter called anyone ‘handsome’. Most in our family think that she loves those blades of hers more than she’ll ever love another elf.” He chuckled before turning to continue walking away. “Might want to edit that line in your story, if you’re going for accuracy of character,” he called over his shoulder as he disappeared into the night, his low laughter the only trailing remnant of his presence. Shock played over Talian’s face as the cold chill of fear gripped him, and when he turned to Kalos, the reason for his brother’s embarrassment became painfully clear._

_“Oh shit…” he mumbled. Kalos shoved him roughly before returning to sit by the fire._

_“Yea,” he replied. “’Oh shit’ is right, you featherbrained idiot.” Talian returned to the fire as well, and a long, uncomfortable moment passed between them, but eventually the smile crept back onto his lips._

_“Well,” he began cautiously, continuing despite the glare his brother shot his way. “He didn’t say you_ couldn’t _see his daughter…” Kalos held the glare for as long as possible before bursting into laughter, in which Talian joined him. The two of them laughed themselves into tears as the fire continued to crackle and burn, the only light in a forest shrouded by night._

Talian grinned subconsciously, remembering the evening’s events as he sharpened his sword. That night had been the first time they’d stolen from their father to provide for others. It had been the first time he’d spoken openly with his brother about his nascent feelings for Liadrin. And, he recalled with less fondness, it had been the first time his father had beaten him into unconsciousness when they’d returned, having been gone without a word for three days. He’d had bruises for weeks afterward, and when Liadrin had asked him about them, he’d told her what he and Kalos had done. She had chided him for being so reckless, but the gleam of pride he’d seen in her eyes had cemented the idea in his mind, and they’d only continued to take from Caresian, though it hadn’t been too long after that night that the Scourge had made their endeavors far more meaningful to their brethren.

The Scourge. His eyes narrowed subconsciously as he sat on a small bench outside of the building in which he’d recuperated, the small pile of chemical-soaked rags on the ground at his feet laying in testament to the hours of work he’d already put in this morning getting the caustic nerubian blood off his blade. The same blood that had flowed through the veins of the monsters that had sacked Quel’thalas while his father had hidden secluded in the mountains. He sighed softly at the recollection, remembering how Aedmyre had been right to doubt Caresian’s commitment to their deal. Though the events of those few terrible nights had played out differently than his father would have liked, of that he was sure, Talian knew he and Kalos hadn’t done enough. It was in no small part the reason he’d joined the Order in the first place; to repay a debt he felt he had incurred on his father’s behalf.

Liadrin’s prodding hadn’t helped either, he thought to himself, allowing a small smirk to slide in atop his anger at the memories. She and Kalos had both supported his decision, though his brother had been a bit more cautious in his approval. He raised his eyes skyward, craning his neck back to relieve some tension there from the hunched-over sitting pose he’d adopted while cleaning his blade, and hoped that wherever he was now, wherever his ever-sought destiny had taken him, his brother was well.

All around him, this once-small village bustled with activity. Sin’dorei and Forsaken both milled about its few streets and between its buildings, all surrounded by the broken and corrupted earth that had once stood so full of life. Across the square, he saw Dame Auriferous leaving the city’s main building, her head bowed in conversation with Deathstalker Carville, likely regarding the plans for the Suncrown outpost. He smiled again as he recalled the manner in which he’d learned about their plans from Liadrin, and felt a heat rush to his cheeks. She had left soon after she’d finished her devilishly cruel, yet not-unappreciated, interrogation of him, and he’d ached for her the second she’d been out of sight. Still, there was work to be done, and he would see it through. One of the recruits had been waiting for him when they’d emerged from their small sanctum, and after she’d kissed him farewell, despite his small protest at her public displays of affection for him, he’d sent the recruit running to gather the others. Now he waited for them, cleaning his weapons and trying with great difficulty to extricate himself from memories of the small time they’d had together, and keep himself immersed in the present.

“Well, well,” a familiar rasping voice called out to him, and he raised his head to regard it with a smile as Mireva Ebongale approached him from the direction of the Forsaken’s main building in the city. “Finally back on your feet?” He chuckled in response as he stood, wiping his hands on one of the only clean rags remaining.

“I am, thanks in no small part to you.” He nodded to her in appreciation, and if he hadn’t known better he would have thought he’d seen a blush rise in the pale, rough skin that composed her undead face. “You keep that up, and I’ll start to think you actually want me around.” He winked at her, and she replied with a rasping laughter; a sound that pleased as much as chilled him. It was an inhuman sound, one no living thing could make, but he took it for what it was, and his smile did not falter. For her part, she waved off his thanks.

“You saved my life, seemed only fair.” She paused for a moment, then shrugged as much as her desiccated body would allow. “Plus, I suppose you’re not _terrible_ company.” He chuckled, nodding at her assessment.

“I’m flattered, Mireva. Truly.” He cast his gaze around the bustling town, then nodded back to her. “So, what’s next for you? Heading back to Lordaeron?” She shook her head.

“No, word’s already been sent back to the Dark Lady about my unit, but I haven’t received a reply.”

“Is that good news or bad news?” he ventured hesitantly, but she simply shrugged again in response.

“The Forsaken don’t have what you’d call a rigid military hierarchy, at least not at my level. Those of us that can still touch the Light, even in undeath, are fairly rare, so we pretty much go where we’re needed. In the field, I’ll follow orders from people like Carville, but outside of that, our orders come from the Dark Lady herself. So, until I hear back, I suppose I’ll go with them to Suncrown, see what I can do to help out there.” Talian nodded in understanding, but no small part of him was saddened by the news.

“Well, they’ll be lucky to have you,” he replied. “Can’t say I’m happy to see you go, though. It’s been an honor to fight alongside you, Mireva. I can’t imagine how I’d have done it without you.” Her eyes widened a bit at his praise, and she shifted uncomfortably for a moment, clearly unused to such warming accolades from a member of the living, but he reinforced them with a genuine smile, and she returned it in kind before nodding.

“It was…not terrible,” she replied slowly, earning a laugh from him with the smile she added. She opened her mouth to speak again, when a gruff cough came from behind her, drawing her attention. Another Forsaken stood waiting for it, a man clad in black leather armor and carrying a satchel over his shoulder. His bottom jaw had been seemingly torn off, the long length of muscle that had once been a tongue hanging carelessly from the back of his mouth, but his glowing eyes met Mireva’s evenly as he reached into the satchel and removed a roll of parchment, offering it to her. She took it with a nod, and the man straightened up from his hunched stance, crossing his arms over his chest in a grim salute before turning and leaving without a sound. Talian followed the man with his eyes as he crossed the square toward the bat rider’s stable.

“You’d think he’d…get that healed?” he asked cautiously, unsure if it would give offense or not. Mireva simply snorted a single quiet chuckle as her skeletal fingers worked at removing the string tied around the scroll.

“Our people don’t particularly enjoy talking with others at the best of times,” she mused, her eyes still focused on the knot in the string. “He probably likes it that way, to tell the truth.” Talian nodded aimlessly as he watched the man climb atop the bats that had been brought by the Forsaken, and tear away into the sky. Mireva mumbled a curse, but finally managed to remove the string. She unrolled the parchment, read it though, and laughed aloud, that strange haunting sound once again sending shivers down his spine.

“What is it?” he asked. She looked up, meeting his gaze with her own bright yellow one, a playful smile on her sallow face.

“Spoke too soon. Looks like you may not be rid of me just yet, after all.”

* * *

The harsh winds of Northrend whipped violently about the top of the ziggurat, blasting all around the two elves in dark plate armor who fought atop it. The sickly purple robes of the pair of necromancers who stood dutifully at the platform’s edge, their heads bowed beneath their dark cowls, tousled in the gale, but they made no move to smooth them down.

Syrisa’s twin blades glowed with an unholy blue light as she carved them through the air, sending them screaming for her apprentice’s face. He stepped back just in time, grunting with exertion as he swung the massive saronite blade that had been forged for him toward her ribcage. She knew she had no time to move, and her eyes rolled back into her skull, her skin glowing with blue light as she pulled from the tortured soul within her, summoning the dark powers she had been given upon her resurrection. Her skin crystallized and hardened into a barrier stronger than steel, and when his blade connected, the shrill clash of steel on hardened ice was his only reward.

The sight stunned him, his glowing blue eyes widening in shock, and she seized the opportunity, spinning away from him while lashing out with her blades. They bit deep into his right leg, in the joint between armored plates, and he roared in pain as he collapsed to his knees. Her expression did not change as she took a step away, then lunged forward to plunge one of her swords into his shoulder. His scream redoubled, and his gaze met hers with a feral snarl. The smallest of smirks played across her lips, and she shoved forward with the blade, sending him sprawling onto his back with a grunt of pain. She stood over top of him then, the harsh wind having pulled loose a few strands of her pale hair that now danced freely in its grasp.

“Five days we’ve been at this, now. Five days of dragging you up here, beating you senseless, and you learning nothing from it.” His eyes narrowed at her, but he said nothing, and she felt the heat of anger, the only heat she now knew, welling within her chest. “And the whole time, you haven’t spoken three damned words.” She twisted the blade, and he snarled at her through gritted teeth. She laughed, an empty, hollow sound. “Oh, are you upset now? I’d bet you’d love to get up off that floor and teach me a thing or two, wouldn’t you? Well…” she ripped the blade free, not acknowledging his slight cry at the motion, and turned her back to him, crossing to where his great-sword lay atop the ziggurat. Her heavy metal boot rang out as she stomped it down atop the weapon, followed by the screech of metal as she skidded it back across the floor to him. “Take it. Get up and show me why I shouldn’t have just fed you to the ghouls.”

He stood, glaring at her the whole time, and picked up the blade. She readied herself to attack, but almost quicker than she could have anticipated, he rushed her, carving a large arc through the air, the force behind it clearly meant to take her head off. The rage swelled again, and she darted in toward him, their blades clashing repeatedly. She felt the icy power within herself begin to fade with her exertion, and let her blades spin back behind her knuckles, shoving her hands outward and into his chest. An icy blast rocketed the two of them apart, and she steadied herself at the edge of the platform, waiting a moment to recuperate. Suddenly, a dark black tendril came screaming through the falling snow that was the aftermath of her attack, and wrapped itself around her upper body.

Her eyes flew open in shock as she was ripped back across the platform towards his waiting blade. She growled audibly and sought that familiar, dark power within herself once more. Sickly green runes began to appear in the space around her; sharp, straight lines striking out from each odd, ancient shape to connect it to the others. When they’d all been linked after a mere second, the whole pattern glowed, and the black tendril grasping her dissolved with an unsettling _hiss_. She brought her twin blades up just in time to clash against the crushing blow that had been meant for her, and she found her face inches away from his own as they each gritted their teeth and struggled to press the other into submission. A long moment passed between them, and she could feel the strength of the Master’s power inside him, at this close range. The fact that it was slightly stronger than her own was not what surprised her; the fact that he spoke was.

“Why do you hate me?” he grunted, the metallic tinge to his voice making even this simple question sound sinister.

“What?” she spat back at him, her eyes narrowing in confusion.

“Why…” he began again, cutting off with a grunt as she nearly gained the advantage. “The necromancers and ghouls and undead abominations around here barely give me notice. You intentionally go out of your way to make this cursed existence even more miserable than it already is. I can’t imagine the Master intended your sole purpose to be childishly tormenting me. So why? Why do you hate me?”

Her mind raced. The simplicity of the question seemed to snuff out any desire for a pithy comeback, and she just stared daggers into his eyes for a long moment. Then, unconsciously, her gaze flickered to the pin that he still wore, holding the tattered cloak around his shoulders. Two mountains; and between them a rising sun. Red on a field of orange. She met his gaze again, and found only silent intensity in his glowing blue eyes. There was no vitriol, no spite, only an almost-desperate need to know. She growled and shoved forward with her blades, but he held fast, and a short grind of metal against metal was her only reward. “What is that?” she spat at him, gesturing with her eyes down to the pin. “The sigil, what does it mean? I see it, and it enrages me, but I don’t know why. I look at your face, and I want to tear down the walls of this ziggurat if only it meant I’d be rid of you, but I don’t know why. Everything about you screams at me to murder you for my own sake, _and I don’t know why_!” She shoved again, her rage giving her an advantage, and his feet slid back slightly, but still he held. Once they’d stabilized again, she saw him look down at it, taking in its design and coloring. His eyes narrowed in attempted memory, and he winced as he tried as best as he could to move past the dark magic that separated them from their past lives.

“Sun…vale…” he mumbled, and she felt as if a hammer had struck her square in the chest. She disengaged, stepping quickly away from him as her eyes widened in shock.

“Wh-what did you say?” she demanded, her tone perhaps slightly shakier than she’d have liked. His left hand, now freed from holding the pommel of his sword, moved slowly up to touch the pin’s surface. His eyes seemed lost in the found memory, and when they rose to meet hers, they widened in long-forgotten recognition.

“You’re Syrisa Dawnrunner,” he whispered, the awe of realization tinging his metallic voice. His hand moved from the pin to his chest, touching the place on his armor where she knew, beneath its metallic shell, sat the dark crystal that had resurrected him. It lingered there, his eyes falling to the floor of the ziggurat’s rooftop before snapping to hers once more. “And I’m Kalos…Sunvale.”

Her knees buckled, and she staggered backwards at hearing her own name, and more importantly, his. The pair of them served as a massive hammer to the glacial wall blocking off her mind, and it shattered under the blow, her memories rushing forth in a deluge of warmth, pain, happiness, and misery. Tears began to leak from her eyes, freezing to her undead face almost instantly in the biting cold, and under the mental assault, she could no longer stand, falling to her knees on the platform as she grasped the sides of her head with both hands and let out a bloodcurdling scream that resounded across all of Zul’drak.


	17. Interlude: When the Leaves Fall Forever

**~ Interlude ~** **  
When the Leaves Fall Forever**

“Syrisa!” she heard her father’s voice call from beyond the stables. Her hands raced, packing away more provisions into a large sack, and she quickly looped the string around it, tying an unsteady but fast knot before slinging it over her shoulder and rushing out of the room to meet him.

“Yes?” She called out in reply as she came through the doorway. She needn’t have, as he had been about to come through the same passage, but his hands found her shoulders immediately.

“Oh, sun’s grace, I didn’t know where you were. Come, the horses are ready to go, and the last of the villagers are being loaded up as we speak.” She nodded, and he took the sack from her before leading her at a breakneck pace through the long halls of the stables. Her family had been well-respected by the other houses of Quel’thalas for generations, due in no small part to the quality stallions her father bred, used almost exclusively by the key military members of Silvermoon, and any noble with an abundance of coin. She saw their family sigil on the small gate of each stall they passed in their hastened exit, and despite her best efforts, she wondered if, after today, the world would know another generation of Dawnrunner stock. They burst forth into the main square of the village, to a scene of pure carnage.

“Oh no,” her father whispered, clutching her hand tightly. On the horizon, orange-tinged from the fires of villages to the south that already lay in ruins, she could see the hordes of undead; shambling ghouls, gruesome goliaths seemingly stitched together from pieces of the living, and monstrous spiders, all rushing toward their next target. The pair of them stood frozen, though while her father’s face was painted in fear, Syrisa’s held calm resolve.

“Aedmyre!” came a cry from their right, and they both turned to see Raksos, captain of the Dawnrunner guard, rushing to meet them. “Come now, we need to get you to the city!” They ran with him, and her father seemed to shake himself out of his terror long enough to reply as they moved.

“What about you and the rest of the guard?” Raksos only shook his head.

“We have our orders, from the Spire.” He glanced back to meet Aedmyre’s gaze. “They’re boarding ships at the northern docks of the city, planning to make for Quel’danas is my bet. Either way, reports have come in from the south. It’s…it’s gone, my Lord. Everything, everyone…they’re exterminating us.” He paused for a moment, then shook his head, reaffirming his duty. “We have to slow them, or there won’t be enough time left for the ships to set sail. Ranger-General Windrunner is establishing a firm barricade at the city gates; we have to buy her enough time to finish it.”

“Raksos!” her father called out as they ran. “You’re not going to…” he trailed off, but the guard captain only smiled weakly back at him.

“I will do my duty to Quel’thalas, Aedmyre; as would any who wear my armor and take up my blade.” They ran in silence for a long moment before reaching the far end of the village. Most of the horses had long since departed, but Syrisa could see her mother and elder sister already in the back of a horse-drawn cart, eyes eagerly searching for the two of them. Around them, a battle raged. The Scourge had reached the edges of the village, and she could see Dawnrunner soldiers fighting alongside what reinforcements the Spire could spare. Their numbers paled in comparison to the Scourge ranks, however, and Syrisa called forward to Raksos over the din of battle.

“Where are the Sunvale?!” The guard-captain’s eyes found hers, narrowed in anger, as he replied.

“Caresian has abandoned us,” he spat out in anger. “May the sun never warm his face again, the traitor. When Anasterian hears of this betrayal…” He barked out a harsh chuckle. “The irony of it is, there _are_ some Sunvale troops here.”

“Some?” she called back as they weaved behind the main barricade, crossing over to where the horses were hitched. They came to a stop, and Raksos pointed across the field, to two young elves in orange cloaks helping villagers onto horses or into carts.

“The bastard’s own sons,” Raksos continued as her eyes found them. “Apparently, Caresian thought to keep them locked up; they told us he has the whole of the Enclave ensconced in underground bunkers, waiting for the Scourge to pass through.” He paused to spit on the ground in disgust. “All that military might, wasted on a coward.” He pointed to them again earnestly. “Those boys may just have the only two spines in the whole of House Sunvale.” As he spoke, Syrisa saw them struggling with a large trunk of valuables deemed necessary by one of the fleeing villagers, and she bolted for them without thinking, her father’s cry behind her lost quickly in the noise all around her. She reached them after a moment, ducking down to add her strength, and together the three of them hoisted the trunk into the cart, and next to a very thankful elf.

“Thank—woah, shit!” the younger Sunvale sputtered out when he recognized her. His eyes were wide, and he shifted uncomfortably, and his elder brother slapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey! Get it together! Not the time for this!” Kalos seemed to snap to, reaching over to help another villager onto the cart. Talian assisted one of his own while turning to her. “Thanks! We’ve got this; you need to get to the horses!” Her eyes narrowed in indignation, but her father’s call from across the field caught her attention before she could retort.

“Syrisa! Get over here this instant; we’re leaving!” She spared a last look for the brothers, then turned to run to her horse, but before she’d taken more than a step, a gargoyle swooped in from above, its razor-sharp talons missing her head by mere inches. Several more of them followed suit, harassing her as she ran, and she swung her blades around her, catching one here or there, but for the most part ineffectually. As she approached her father’s horse, another of the vile creatures attacked, its claws sinking into the flesh of the horse’s flank. The beast wailed in pain and kicked harshly backward, decapitating the undead being before bolting away. Her father’s expression as he looked back at her was pure terror, but try as he did, he couldn’t keep the horse from screaming away from the battle. The driver of her family’s caravan, shocked at the sudden surge in winged Scourge forces, snapped his whips, spurring the horses to life as they galloped away as well. She could see her mother and sister screaming at him to stop, their eyes continuously flashing back to where she stood amidst the encroaching chaos of battle, but he paid them no mind as he raced for the safety of Silvermoon.

As the last of the villagers were hurried away on their horses, her eyes crossed back to the fray, her mind slowly accepting her fate. Talian and Kalos stood where they had before, the cart they had been loading up just now racing away from the battle. A dozen dead gargoyles lay at their feet, but the elder brother leaned against one of the tall trees that dotted the landscape, clutching painfully at a deep cut across his chest. He stumbled, and his brother caught him, his gaze flickering between the approaching Scourge and his injured brother. Syrisa rushed back across to him, helping prop up a groaning Talian for a moment as she yelled across to him.

“You have to get out of here!” The elf shook his head firmly.

“No! I just need to find a place where he can rest, then I can join the others. We’re supposed to help with the defense!” She barked a short laugh before replying.

“Yea? There are supposed to be a lot more of you, too. What happened to that plan?” His eyes narrowed in irritation, but he nodded his head in admittance that she was correct.

“We’re what came,” he replied, quieter and just barely audible to her. His voice was pained, and no small part of her heart broke for him. Her father had told her of Caresian Sunvale; to think of what Kalos’ and Talian’s lives must be like…she shook her head to dispel the emotion. She needed to be focused. When she replied, it was kinder, but still decidedly stern.

“You’re not helping anyone by throwing your life away, Kalos.” He met her eyes then, and she took a step forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. Beneath her gauntlet, she could feel him shaking, whether from fear or rage, she wasn’t quite sure. “Kalos,” she said quietly, “running now doesn’t make you your father. He abandoned us; you saved lives today. No one on those horses, or on that battle-line, will ever forget that.” His eyes met hers, and she could see depths of pain in them that she’d never before imagined possible, but at last he hung his head, nodding in acceptance. “Now go,” she called out again. “Get to Silvermoon, and tell them what happened here.” He met her eyes one more time, his mouth seemingly wanting to speak, before simply nodding to her and moving to take his brother away. She watched him leave for a moment, taking to the deeper woods to remain hidden from above, and steeled herself before turning around to face their enemy.

She made her way quickly across the battlefield to rejoin her kin, her blades cutting a devastating path through any undead minion foolish enough to attempt to hinder her. She and Caelyn were her father’s only children; her sister’s lot in life had always been to carry on the family’s trade. Hers, even from the earliest memory she possessed, had been battle. She had trained relentlessly, honing her skills in every way she could, and she fell upon the Scourge who assailed her like the tide upon pebbles, scattering and breaking them with a determined fury. When she reached the barricade, she was met by Raksos, whose disbelieving expression at seeing her there would have made her laugh despite herself not a few days prior. Instead, she only nodded to him; a grim gesture which he returned in kind, and they stood together against the Scourge.

They fought for what felt like years. Every enemy they cut down was replaced by two more, and even the dead were not safe from the Scourge’s dark magic. More than once, she’d been forced to cut down the lifeless husk of a former ally as they stood once more to attack their own kind. The battle raged on, and then seemingly from nowhere, a pulse of chilling frost slammed outward from somewhere in the back lines of their enemy. At once, the attack ceased, the ghoulish enemies retreating to a few yards away. Syrisa stood panting, her once-pristine golden armor soaked in sickening blood, her blades at the ready as she assessed the lull in fighting. She felt it before she saw it, the squirm in her stomach, the fear of impending death, and her eyes were drawn instinctively to the middle of the enemy line. The Scourge parted, making way for the human she’d heard whispers of. Arthas, they’d called him. Her enemy, was all she cared to know. He stood silently for a long moment before thrusting the wicked blade he held into the earth. Creeping decay spread from it like a disease, poisoning the ground and slowly turning it fallow before their very eyes.

“Stand aside,” he called out, the chilling voice emanating from somewhere deep within his darkened helm. The metal of it seemed to almost…move…shifting in a way that turned her stomach to gaze upon. “I chase a prey far greater than this rabble you set before me. Cease your resistance, and I will grant you quick deaths, and the honor of eternal servitude.”

Syrisa cast her glance around the rest of the soldiers. From Raksos to the Captain of the Silvermoon forces, every elf stood stricken with fear. It grasped and clawed at her own mind as well, but she shoved it aside, stepping forward from the barricade and into the dead space between them. Arthas’ cold blue eyes settled on her own pair of golden ones, and though she felt the unnatural icy cold threatening to freeze her solid, she glared defiantly up into them. She stared at him for a long moment, and while he towered above her, she could see him for what he was; a boy with power freely given. A spoiled child. And a murderer. She spat at his feet, her saliva sizzling where it touched the twisted earth.

“You march your army into this land without knowing the first thing about it. Quel’thalas has the finest hunters and the best bows in all of Azeroth,” she growled across the open air to him. “Its woods hold danger untold for the unwary or foolhardy sort.” She paused to let him consider her words, her eyes narrowing in disdain. “No prey in this land is taken without a price. No inch of ground is given freely.” She pulled up her sword arm, though it felt heavy as stone after the battle she’d endured, and pointed the tip of her blade toward him. It did not waver. “Every moment you remain here is another moment that Quel’thalas survives, murderer. Spare us your offers; you gave up that privilege the moment your monstrosities set foot in our homeland.”

For a moment, all was quiet, the only sound being the burning fires about the village, and the rustling of leaves as they fell from the eternally autumnal trees all around them. Then, a low rumbling laugh began to emanate from behind the helm, and in one fluid motion, he tore the blade from the earth, whipping it around to slam into her own. The finely-crafted metal that had endured for years against even the most rigorous of training regimens shattered in an instant, shards of the blade scattering to the ground. The pain of the reverberation sliced up into her arm, and she cried out in pain before immediately readying her other sword.

“As you wish,” his inhuman voice called from behind the dark helm. He began to step towards her, and though every instinct told her to flee, she bared her teeth and held her ground as he advanced to meet her. Time seemed to slow again as he readied and swung that vicious blade, and she raised her own to meet it, but at the last moment he let it fall, reaching out with a gauntleted hand to grasp her throat as her sword rang ineffectually against his armor. She choked and sputtered as he lifted her into the air, her own armored hands gripping tightly around his wrist in some vain attempt to stop what she knew she now had no control over. All around her, in her peripheral vision, the undead masses surged forward anew around their master, smashing against the barricades, and the sounds of screaming and dying elves flooded her ears as she stared death in the face.

She tried to hurl insults at him, to curse his name and the day he was born, to promise him that Quel’thalas would neither forget nor forgive what he’d done, but all she could muster was a pained gurgling as his hand tightened around her neck. Deep within the recesses of the helm that now sat mere inches from her face, she thought she could just barely make out the hint of a frostbitten human countenance, and a sinister smile that played across its lips. Through his grip, she felt his body tense as his other arm brought the blade around, and rammed it clean through her midsection. The pain was unbelievable, the added ridges on the blade’s surface tearing apart her insides as she hung powerless in his grasp. She couldn’t scream, or think, or breathe, only agonize in the world of fiery torment into which he’d squarely placed her. Then, slowly at first but rapidly increasing, she felt…herself…being pulled from her body, her very essence being drained from the physical shell she had called her own. Darkness began to edge in on her vision, the sounds of battle all around her began to muffle and recede, and as her eyes closed for the last time, they tilted skyward, seeing the gently-falling autumn leaves, their cycle of life and death continuing onward, ignorant of the chaos that raged below them.

The eternal amidst the inevitable.


	18. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***Author's Note***  
> A super-massive thank you and shout-out to wolfandwild for helping me work on some of  
> the finer nuances of this chapter. If you haven't checked out her _Lion of the Alliance_ series,  
>  right here on Ao3, give it a read-through. Her characters are incredibly well-developed, the narrative flows   
> seamlessly from event to event, and there's enough personal intrigue and original plot  
> ideas in there to give the official lore a run for its money. Do yourself a favor and check   
> it out!
> 
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**~ 16 ~**

Her scream echoed into the distance, and her hands flew from where they had sat clutching the sides of her head to instead grasp tightly at her midsection as the memory of her death slipped back into the ocean of others that raged in her mind. The only purchase they found was in the heavy saronite breastplate that guarded her there, but within her abdomen, she could still feel the deathly cold and razor-sharp spines of that damned blade, tearing her apart. Her eyes were wide open, their glowing blue desperately casting around the floor of the ziggurat's rooftop, focusing on nothing as memories hammered and assailed her. The noises that came from her throat were pained, curt, almost animalistic as her brain raced to process what had happened, and what she was now.

"Syrisa…?" his voice called out to her, metallic and cold after his resurrection, yet somehow faintly tinged with warmth and concern. Concern for her, who had mauled him gleefully not minutes ago. Her eyes rose, searching for answers, begging for relief from the spinning vortex that continued to spill memories recent and old throughout the inside of her skull, but upon seeing his countenance she snarled almost instinctively, scrambling backwards and away from him without a care for where she ended. "Easy," he called out to her calmly, his hands reaching further in an offer to take her own. She swatted them away, the metal of their gauntlets ringing out against one another, and continued her sporadic flight from him, edging away and keeping her eyes on him always. Those eyes, hollow and blue…She remembered them, fixed in the faces of the reanimated elves she'd had to cut down just to survive for another moment, to swing her blade in defense of her home, her family, just one more time.

Her family…fresh tears spilled forth from her eyes, freezing even quicker than had the previous ones, as the sun was now nearing the horizon to the west. Twilight was beginning to creep in, and the threat of indomitable cold became ever-more present, but she spared it not a thought. Her parents, her sister…everyone she had loved…did they yet live? Were they safe? What measure of security had her life purchased for them, a life given so freely to gain for them a fighting chance?

"Syrisa," his damned voice called again. The concern was there, buried somewhere beneath layers of indifference and demand, but still she could sense it. Her eyes had fallen back to the floor as she'd been lost in recollection of her family, and she leaped away from him without looking. Her palm came down on the floor, and skidded over the edge, sending her crashing to her side. Finally, aware once more of her surroundings, she turned her head to take them in. Her upper half came terribly close to hanging off the edge of the ziggurat, and far below she could see the fetid geist pools, crawling with undead minions harvesting the latent power that lay here in Zul'drak. Her stomach turned, a feeling she'd not experienced in some time, and she emptied its sickening black contents over the side of the structure, trying to push herself back onto the platform, her heavy armor making it difficult.

"Here," he called out to her, and she turned her head to look at him again. He stood close now, she hadn't noticed him approach, his hand outstretched to her and a look of genuine concern on his sallow face. She reached back to him hesitantly, pulling away again once or twice before allowing her shaking hand to fall into the palm of his, and he closed gently around it before pulling her to her feet. She stood before him, looking up the few inches of height that separated them, her hands trembling, her eyes begging for peace and quiet inside her head. He placed his gauntleted hands on her shoulders, holding her tightly. "Are you still…here?" he asked quietly. His face was a mask of confusion, his mind clearly still warring between the icy indifference of undeath and the brief moment of revelation they'd shared. In reply, she only stared at him for a moment more, then attempted to both nod and shake her head at the same time, the result being a jumbled mess of movement that brought another wave of confusion to his stoic face.

She closed her eyes, seeing an unending stream of flashes in her mind; a lakeside picnic with her family here, a sparring match with Silvermoon's Captain of the Guard there, the uncomfortable feeling of being confined in a dress for important dinners with potential suitors, her sister's broken arm after falling from a tree during archery practice, her younger self keeping a vigil by her bedside, asking her parents if a broken bone could kill a person, and not understanding the warm smiles and slight chuckles they'd given her in reply. It all twisted and spun, her mind reeled, and suddenly, as quickly as it had come, everything was snuffed out into blackness. The void hung in her mind for a moment, and just when she thought she'd earned some solace, the memories of her rebirth slammed into her head. The pain, the fear, the torment, it all flared to life in her mind anew, and she groaned in pain as her hands once again found their way to the sides of her head. Her gauntlet, which had held a few small chips in it for a long while now, allowed her to catch a glimpse of her own skin as she raised her hands, and she slowed, reaching over to remove it and examine her flesh.

The skin was pale, and although she remembered that people had always told her she looked pale for one from her family, this was an altogether different shade. Her fingernails, which she'd kept meticulously trimmed in life to allow her better dexterity with her blades, were long now, broken and chipped, the flesh beneath them blue and purple where her blood had frozen in the veins. She turned her hand over and examined it thoroughly before looking up to meet his gaze again, and after what felt like an eternity, she spoke quietly, her voice carrying a shake that she knew would not leave her for a long while.

"I…I remember everything. It's hazy…but it's there. Quel'thalas, Arthas…my death." She shook her head at the pain of it all, another set of tears leaking from her long-deceased eyes. "My resurrection…" She met his eyes again, hers begging for any help. He said nothing in reply, instead simply reaching up and brushing the crystallized tears from her cheeks with his thumb. The gesture was slow and stiff, as though he'd never before performed it, in this life or his previous one.

"It appears you've broken through whatever dark magic seals off our minds. Becoming yourself again, perhaps?" She shook her head adamantly, holding up her bare hand for him to examine.

"No. I'm not me…I'm a monster." The reel of memories had continued to play in her mind, showing her the things she'd done…the people she'd killed…and the memory of having taken a twisted pleasure in all of it made her want to vomit again. She kept her composure, though, and looked up to him again. "Do…do you remember it all?" He looked out over the edge of the ziggurat, to the pools below, and after a moment, shook his head. His face had relaxed once more into its resting indifference, and even in attempting to recall his forgotten past, he did not seem in least bit concerned. The hollow nature of his countenance terrified her, and she wondered if, until just a moment ago, it had been a semblance of her own. She knew the answer though, and squeezed her eyes shut in disbelief, only opening them again when he spoke.

"Pieces. Here and there. Nothing significant…at least I don't think. I can't remember my death. I…I can't remember most of my life." He looked back to her, and seemed to sense the despair that had welled within her when she realized he was in an even worse position than was she. His hands returned to her shoulders, and he squeezed them, perhaps a bit too tightly. "But I know that this…" he cast his gaze around the platform, "is all wrong." He met her eyes again, and she nodded along gently. A long moment of silence passed between them, and she was the one to break it, in the quiet and pained voice that she knew belied her fear.

"So…what do we do?" He shook his head, looking away again for a moment. She watched his eyes, and where she thought she should see the same confusion and pain that she knew must also be in her own, she found only cold calculation. For a moment the despair of the whole situation threatened to overwhelm her, but just as she opened her mouth to speak again, he turned back to face her. His gaze had steeled, and she could feel the tension in his grip on her shoulders as he replied.

"We do what monsters do," he said softly, but his voice was steel, hard and unyielding. "We fight. We kill. We slaughter. But we do it for ourselves, not for him." He paused, making sure she knew who he meant, and when she nodded, he continued. "And we stay together," he added quietly, shaking his head as if losing the trail of a memory on the tip of his tongue. "Something tells me…we stay together." She nodded once more, and made to reply when a slight movement caught her attention just over his shoulder. The two necromancers who had stood with them, having seen the entire exchange, now ran for the ramp leading back down to the ziggurat; no doubt in a hurry to inform the Mast—Arthas, she corrected herself mentally, of their broken shackles.

She shoved Kalos away from her roughly, disregarding the surprised expression that sprang onto his face, and flung her hands in their direction in desperation, pulling from the soul trapped within her with much greater difficulty than before. A line of icy spikes erupted from the earth, screaming toward where the two men ran. Just before the first reached the entrance, a set of them erupted beneath his feet, impaling him multiple times over. The second, seeing the fate of the first, moved to step around them as he ran, but before he'd gotten a few more steps in, that same dark tendril that had grabbed her minutes ago raced across to ensnare him. His body was hurled back toward them, and Kalos caught the man's throat in his gauntlet, their immense strength allowing him to stand perfectly still even as the man's body crashed into his waiting hand.

Wordlessly, and with no malice in his expression, Kalos clenched his fist, crushing the man's neck, and earned a series of harsh snaps and gurgles as a result. He turned then, tossing the body over the side of the structure before crossing back over to stand before her. As he approached, she saw the wounds she'd inflicted upon him, and her hand made to trace their scoring in his flesh as he came to a stop. His eyes followed her hands, and when she looked up, their glowing blue were waiting for her. He smiled softly, nodding to tell her that her knew none of it was her own fault, and for the first time in years, a small but genuine smile crept onto her face. Everything was madness, her mind was chaos. But for the moment, at least, she wasn't alone in that maelstrom.

"If we're going to do this," he said quietly, though they stood alone now atop the ziggurat, "we have to do it intelligently. We'll have to…" he paused for a moment, seemingly considering her potential reaction, before continuing, "play the part until we have an opportunity to escape."

"Light's Hope," she said without thinking, the words springing from her lips before she could even think them. His eyes narrowed in confusion, and she elaborated. "He was having me train you for the assault on Light's Hope Chapel. From the way he…spoke…it sounded as if it would be sooner rather than later." She looked away, shivering to recall Arthas' voice within her own mind. She had not heard it since the torrent of memories had overtaken her, and she reached out gingerly with her mind to sense him. All was quiet, and the stillness in response brought a small sigh of relief from her. He only nodded thoughtfully in reply.

"Very well; that's when we'll make our move. Until then, we carry on. We continue operations here as if nothing has changed. We continue to train…and we answer when he calls." Had she not known better, she could swear she saw him visibly shiver at the thought. It gave her pause as well, but she knew that the fastest way to indicate to Arthas that something was wrong would be to not answer his summons, and so she resigned herself to agree.

"And we stay together," she added quietly, meeting and holding his gaze. Even in the glowing blue of his undead eyes, she felt a connection with him. She had seen him in her memories…or had she? They had flickered past so quickly, but his face…even pale and darkened with cold indifference as it was now, she remembered him. He had barely remembered her, but she closed her eyes for a moment, and could practically smell the burning wreckage of her village as she had bidden him to flee. Sorrow stabbed at her heart, and she was unsure if he would ever regain those lost moments, or if she would be their keeper now. Either way, she knew he was right; they stood a better chance together than on their own. He gave a small smile of his own, and nodded once again.

"Yes, we stay together."

* * *

The snow fell gently outside the gates of the ancient dwarven city, blanketing every branch of every tree in the rolling hills at the base of its massive, sloping entryway in a quiet calm which stood in stark contrast to the tumbling concerns in Avrena's stomach. It grumbled once again, and she rolled her eyes in irritation at its seeming necessity to audibly announce her disquiet. She'd flung Vae halfway across the world via a hastily-constructed and dangerous portal, left her stranded amongst a people she hadn't much experience with and, from her perspective at least, had made no effort to retrieve her. The pushback of Aethera's amulet had been strong, she recalled with a slight shiver that had nothing to do with the chill of the air around her, and there was no way she had been that deep within their home without meeting Vae. And her father! By the Light, she'd dropped a complete stranger into her father's home and not followed. Vae was skilled, to be sure, but her father's strength when angered…she sighed and shook her head, dreading to take the step she knew she must.

She imagined some twenty or thirty minutes had passed since she'd made the portal with Grimmand, who had since headed back inside with some kind words in parting, and after another moment's hesitation, she pushed herself off the barrel against which she leaned and stepped into the clear space before her. She readied her hands, and the latent magic in the area leapt willingly into them, startling her for a moment. The portal appeared before her almost instantly, peering into her bedroom, and she breathed a small sigh of relief at knowing Aethera would not be waiting for her. She stepped through hesitantly, letting the portal close behind her, and gripped the strap of the satchel around her neck tightly as her eyes took in the scene. Sunlight came through the window in muted rays, landing on the soft bed she called her own. Its sheets held a handful of faded red stains, and she felt her throat tighten before the voice called out quietly behind her.

"Before you say anything, I've already apologized for that." Avrena closed her eyes in relief as the smile found its way across her lips, and when she turned she stifled a bark of laughter. Vae stood leaning against the doorframe, chewing on her latest bite from an apple she held in one hand. She was dressed in the tight leggings and white undershirt she wore beneath her armor, and Avrena quickly moved her eyes upward to meet Vae's own to avoid blushing despite herself. When she did, the elf winked at her, the blush came regardless, and she cursed herself internally. Vae stepped into the room, past the small pile of her armor that lay haphazardly on the floor, and offered the small cup of hot tea in her other hand to Avrena. "Figured you'd be by soon; thought you might need that," she said quietly, the soft smile on her face beaming barely-contained concern for her across the space between them. Avrena took it with a smile of her own and a nod of thanks, sipping gingerly for a moment before replying.

"Vae…I am so sorry." The elf turned her head slightly in confusion.

"What for?" Avrena's eyes widened, and she gestured around her.

"All of this!" she cried out in a frantic whisper. "I threw you through a portal, I—"

"Which saved my life," Vae interrupted, taking another bite of the apple. Avrena shook her head.

"I left you abandoned here with people you—"

"Wonderful people, really," Vae cut in once more, stepping around past her and pointing out her bedroom window as Avrena turned to follow her with her eyes. "Right there, by the edge of the woods. That's where I'm building my house. Because, Avvy, the food you all have got here…" She widened her eyes in feigned astonishment, tossing the apple into the air for a moment before catching it and taking another bite.

"But…I…Aethera…"

"Oh, yea," Vae cut in again around the mouthful of fruit, though it was becoming decidedly easier as Avrena lost steam. "Now she's a bit…um…" Her eyes narrowed as she looked for the right word, then sprang back open as she pointed to Avrena with the hand that held the apple. "Intense. That lady is intense." Avrena stared at her, her mouth slightly agape in confusion. She was supposed to be furious, feeling betrayed, hurt…nothing like this. Vae laughed, gently placing the half-eaten apple down on Avrena's nightstand and crossing over to her. She placed her bare hands on Avrena's cheeks, and leaned forward to kiss her forehead. The warmth of her lips sent a shudder through Avrena, who closed her eyes for a moment to collect herself before opening them once more to find Vae waiting for them.

"You are not upset with me…" she whispered, and Vae smiled as she shook her head.

"Not one little bit, Avvy. Missed you, mostly." Avrena laughed quietly in reply, and Vae pulled her into a tight embrace, squeezing her in reassurance. Avrena sighed in relief, then stiffened immediately as she heard the throat-clearing cough behind her. She spun in place as Vae released her, and smiled warmly as soon as she saw his face.

"Welcome home, my child," he called out softly, and she ran to him, hugging him tightly as she felt his laugh reverberate through his chest.

"Papa, I am so sorry for all of this," she whispered up to him, but he waved off her apology.

"Nonsense. Vaelyth has been a wonderful house guest." She looked back to the elf, who now leaned against the small desk near her window, having taken up her apple once more, receiving another wink and a mischievous grin as she bit into it again. "She even helped me with the washing up," he added, and from across the room Vae choked a bit.

"Hey, whoa," she spoke around her full mouth. "Aksos, that was supposed to be our little secret. I've got a reputation to maintain, appearances to keep up, all that stuff." He laughed again, and Avrena smiled back up at him. A long moment passed between the three of them, and she spoke up quietly to break it.

"I wish that we could stay for a while…" He smiled back down at her and stroked her hair.

"As do I, Avrena," he replied quietly, "but once Aethera left, Vaelyth told me of what you carry, and its importance to others. You know as well as I that you must continue your journey. Besides," He paused for a moment, breaking away his gaze to focus squarely on Vae. A small smile crossed his lips, and he nodded over to her. "I believe you are in safe hands." He paused for a moment, then spoke to the elf. "Would you mind giving us a moment?"

"Of course," she replied, crossing the room to stand near her armor. She poked it with her toes. "I'll just throw this back on before we head out, want to use the front room?" Aksos nodded and led Avrena away down the hall as Vae picked up her bracers and began to dress, the rest of the apple held firmly between her teeth. She muttered a curse at one of her bracers as they continued away, and Avrena laughed quietly to herself. She looked up to meet her father's gaze, and he smiled as he shook his head slightly at the elf's antics. They passed into the main room, and he turned to her then, placing his hands on her shoulders.

"Papa," she called out quietly to him, and his smile only deepened. "What did you want to talk about?" He took a deep breath, letting it go and glancing down the hallway once more before replying.

"I want to talk to you about your mother, Avrena." Her eyes widened for a moment at the seriousness in his voice, and his transition into Draenic. He paused before continuing. "And about Vaelyth."

* * *

"All of them? Truly?" Leyera whispered from his left. Talian turned to meet her eyes, expecting narrowed criticism, and barely contained a shocked expression of his own when he found only wide-eyed disbelief. The derisive comment he'd thought to use suddenly evaporated in his mind, and he found himself simply nodding solemnly.

"As far as we could tell," he replied, holding her gaze even as the horse he'd borrowed from Tranquilien's stables continued to move forward beneath him. The beast was no Adarien, of that he was sure, but after what had been reported to him as an all-out sprint to the gates of Silvermoon, he was certain his faithful companion could well use whatever rest he was currently receiving. A moment of silence passed between them, and he shook his head, exhaling audibly. "When Kalos and I returned to the Enclave, the place looked as if it hadn't seen a soul in decades."

"But where did they go?" Derevin spoke up from his other side, and he shifted in his saddle to face him as he continued. "From what my father tells me, our forces didn't see a single Sunvale before traveling through the Dark Portal." Talian shrugged in response.

"I suppose Caresian didn't feel inclined to tell us; 'bastard sons' that we were." He allowed a small quirk of a smile to cross his lips after speaking, and the slight tension the words may have caused was quickly swallowed up by a respectful round of chuckling instead.

"Hold a moment," Rillia spoke quietly from behind, as they all quieted down. "Are…are you truly? What I mean to say is…you hold the lordship, do you not?" Before Talian could reply, Leyera reached over to pat her thigh in reassurance.

"Just a figure of speech, dear. Lord Talian is very much the rightful leader of House Sunvale." She flashed her gaze over to him, and gave the slightest nod of deference, which he returned gratefully.

"Oh…" Rillia whispered, her hands tightening on the reins of her horse while her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Talian's heart broke for her for a moment, and he thought to say something to reassure her. Before he could move, however, Mireva spoke up in her rasping voice.

"I can't well say I blame the girl for thinking it. By all accounts I've heard, he's the exact opposite of the previous Lord." She shrugged as much as her shoulders would allow. "Besides, I'm sure he'll be called far worse before all's said and done. Likely by me." They all laughed then, even Rillia letting loose a small chuckle, and she smiled to the Forsaken woman in thanks, a gesture she returned as best she could.

Talian only shook his head, though the smile had crossed his lips, and both he, Mireva, and the recruits traveled in relative quiet for the remainder of their journey to Farstrider Retreat. The woods were shrouded in an eerie calm, as if completely unaware of the threat which loomed just to the east, threatening to turn even these mostly-unscathed northern fields as fallow as their brethren to the south. He gazed upon the land as they traveled and the recruits made their own quiet conversation between themselves, seeing memories in every rolling hill and small pond, and he sighed slightly, a mixture of contentment and longing for simpler times commingling within his chest. He had slipped into a string of fond memories with Liadrin and Kalos, and so hadn't noticed the time passing him by, when a sharp whistle in the distance brought him back to the present, and he refocused his gaze on the horizon. At its edge, he could barely make out the shape of the Retreat, imposed against the backdrop of the rugged hills which lay across the river to its east. The whistle had come from the single elf on horseback who rode toward their group, and as she grew nearer she reined in her steed, its hooves coming to a stamping halt.

" _Bal'a dash, malanore_ ," she called across to him. "Caelyn Dawnrunner; lieutenant and second-in-command here at the Retreat." Her blonde hair hung just past her shoulders, left loose to dance lightly in the afternoon breeze around the bow slung across her back, and it framed a welcoming face with a sharp jawline and almost ivory skin. Her eyes seemed to glint with knowledge that he did not possess, and her lips wore a small smile as she spoke. "Lord Talian Sunvale, I take it?"

"Unless there's another one out there I'm unaware of," he replied with a sincere smile, nodding back to her. He turned in the saddle to gesture to the others. "These are Leyera, Derevin, and Rillia, initiates of the Blood Knight order, and Mireva Ebongale, priestess in service to the Dark Lady." He paused for a moment, grinning back at the Forsaken woman. She shook her head slightly in warning, but a small chuckle escaped him before he continued. "Recently, she's also been appointed an ambassador of sorts to our people, so I suppose you could say she's the most respectable one among us." Mireva sighed audibly, still embarrassed at her recent promotion, and shot Talian a glare that would have frozen him in his boots had he not known her better. She seemed to want to snap off a biting comment in his direction, but thought better of it instead, nodding deeply to Caelyn from atop her skeletal steed.

"Lieutenant. It's…an honor to be welcomed in your homeland."

"We're pleased to have you," she replied, casting her gaze across the entire group. "All of you. If you'll follow me, I'll lead you directly to our staging grounds." She turned her horse, looking at Talian and tossing her head in an invitation to join her, and the group followed as Talian moved up to follow her request.

"Can I help with something else, Lieutenant?" he asked quietly, somehow sure that her gesture had been one of privacy. She looked back across to him, her eyes seeming to appraise his worth as they met his own. A small frown creased her lips, and for a moment she closed her eyes in thought before opening them and giving him a short nod.

"You can…" she began, the words seeming to come with great pain. Confusion ran rampant across his face, but he patiently waited for her to continue. "…tell me how House Sunvale fares, these days." She had finished quietly, and the reason for her discomfort washed over him like a wave. He chided himself internally for not paying closer attention; she was a Dawnrunner, he was probably lucky she hadn't slapped him across the face in greeting as a simple matter of course. He nodded slowly, turning his gaze to behold the Retreat as they rode towards it.

"Better than I could have ever hoped," he replied. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her still appraising him, and he shook his head slowly. "These days, lieutenant, I'm just trying to salvage what's left of my father's lunacy." He turned to meet her gaze again, and saw the barely-contained tears welling in her eyes before she glanced quickly away to obscure their presence. "I know I don't need to tell you, of all people, how impossible that task seems."

"Perhaps not," she replied, her face still turned away toward the hills. She allowed a small pause to hang between them, almost as if uncertain she wanted to continue, before setting her shoulders and turning to face him once more. "The Retreat received a visitor not long ago."

"Liadrin," he answered quietly, his voice steady but rife with care. She nodded in reply.

"She surprised me," Caelyn replied, looking back out towards the Retreat. "I would have thought her wary of a resurgence in Sunvale's presence in Quel'thalas, but she could barely breathe but to sing your praises." She glanced over to him with a look that seemed to know far more than she would ever voice aloud, but she continued before he had a chance to speak up. "After she left, I couldn't shake the feeling that she was misguided, or somehow confused, so…I spoke with someone who might give me better information." Talian's eyes narrowed for a moment, and then he chuckled as realization entered his mind.

"Aedmyre," he said quietly. "You spoke with your father." Her eyes widened a bit, but she nodded sharply in reply.

"He told me things…" she trailed off, lost in the memory of their conversation for a moment before shaking her head softly to dispel the distraction. "He said you were there, when our village fell." A shiver ran up Talian's spine, and for a moment it was as if the sun above had been cast over by dark clouds, the cold memory of that evening moving once again to the forefront of his mind. He looked over to see her eyes looking for his own, and nodded solemnly to her.

"I was, alongside my brother." He scoffed quietly. "For all the good it did; I was injured badly early in the fighting, and Kalos all but dragged me away from the field." He paused for a moment before looking back to her. "On your sister's orders, I might add." Caelyn's breath seemed to hitch in her throat, but she composed herself almost instantly, her hands gripping the reins of her horse as tightly as they could. His heart sank for her, and he waited the long moment it took for her to meet his gaze again before continuing in a far quieter voice. "Quel'thalas lost far too much that day, Syrisa included." To his surprise and admiration, she did not weep, or show any meaningful sign of distress. Her eyes hardened, and she nodded in reply before looking back to the Retreat. For a long moment, he thought he'd perhaps crossed a line, or spoken out of turn, and that their conversation was finished, and so it startled him when she spoke once again, in a voice hardened by the pain of loss and the burden of command.

"Liadrin and my father both implored me to put my faith in you to make Sunvale what it always should have been." She paused for a moment, letting go a small sigh that had lodged itself in her lungs for a long while. "You have it, Lord Talian. Do not waste it." The fires of the staging area set up just outside the Retreat were now in view, and she spurred her horse onward. It leapt out into the sun-bathed grasslands around the Retreat, and raced for the familiarity of home, leaving Talian and the others to continue at their normal pace. He watched her ride gracefully as the horse galloped at full strength, as only one born to the saddle could; as only a Dawnrunner could, and felt the familiar tightness in his chest when he truly allowed the enormity of his task to weigh upon him. He set his jaw, pushed it away, and whispered after her fleeing form.

"I won't."


	19. Chapter 17

**~ 17 ~**

Rhadani raised his head as he walked carefully through the open field, the deadened and brown shoots of what could once have been called tallgrass waving in the slight breeze. The wind carried with it the oppressive stench of rot and death, and he snorted roughly through the short nose of the form in which he walked, tossing his head slightly in disgust. Once the breeze passed, he sighed deeply, his paws finding their way through the field on their own as his mind wandered. It had taken him longer than he’d hoped to cross the western half of the Plaguelands, and the past few days had seen no small share of scrapes with the local wildlife as well as the local population; or what was left of it at any rate.

He felt a shiver run down his spine again at the thought of the grizzly constructs of flesh and bone that had caught him just outside Corin’s Crossing. A small town, perhaps lovely once, filled to the brim with all manner of Scourge. He’d thought himself careful enough, but the scratches on his shoulder and the bruising he could already feel forming at the small of his back stood in testament to the contrary. He scowled, the gesture readily apparent even on his ursine countenance, and pushed the mild shame to the back of his mind.

He crested a small hill, the land rolling outward beneath him to the east and toward a small river in the distance. Beyond the far banks of the river, the land somehow became even more unwelcoming and fallow than he’d experienced so far, and his eyes widened in shock at the scene. A small but thick expanse of dead trees stood between his hill and the river, and he shifted out of his bear form before walking carefully down the hillside and toward the treeline. He inspected his shoulder as best he could as he walked beyond it and into the trees, hissing a bit as he prodded the shallow but long cut in his flesh. His mind occupied with the undead minions he’d faced, he only barely registered the rustle of leaves to his right side, turning his head a fraction of a second too late as something massive barreled out of the brown foliage and collided with him. He was sent sprawling, slamming to a stop against a nearby tree, and shifted instinctively, whipping his head up and roaring a challenge into the space where his attacker had been.

The sound was met with only empty space, the slow rustling of the grasses as they twisted in the fetid breeze the only sound he could hear. His eyes narrowed, and his ears moved forward as he strained to hear his attacker, and he stepped forward cautiously, scanning around for the threat. He glanced to the left, seeing nothing, and the moment he turned back to the right, his assailant came again, striking out from behind a nearby tree like an arrow loosed from a bow. He was ready this time, however, and made to dodge as the large panther dove for his flank. It was massive for its kind, larger than he’d ever seen before, and while that surprised him, what surprised him more was the way it seemed to adapt to his movement immediately, twisting its body in mid-air and lashing out with a paw full of razor-sharp claws. They caught him even as he moved, blood welling to the surface of his thick hide and seeping out into the dark brown fur. He snarled at the beast in return, but the sound caught in his throat when he noticed the various strips of leather around the creatures neck, holding glowing white stones in various sizes, and the tattoos that adorned its hide. Quickly, the reason for the creatures abnormal size became clear: he was facing another druid. Thinking fast, he turned and bolted for the treeline, sparing a glance backward after a moment to see his attacker rapidly gaining on him. He waited as he ran, biding his time until her could almost feel the beats hot breath on his flank, then spun and dug in with his hind paws, sliding across the earth and tearing a pair of massive gouges in the ground beneath him as he brought one mighty paw slamming downward. The panther’s eyes widened in alarm, but it was too slow to react, and caught the full brunt of his attack across its snout, sending it veering off-course and tumbling into the underbrush nearby.

Rhadani stood for a moment, panting with the exertion of the chase, then cautiously moved to approach, uncertain of his assailant’s state. As he closed with the foliage into which the panther had careened, the distinct scent of warm wood and sweet berries washed over his heightened animal senses, and he shifted back into his natural form, now knowing that the injury had caused his attacker to unconsciously do the same. He pushed his way through the brush and into a small clearing where he found her on one knee, one hand cradling the side of her head even as the other held the ground in a death-grip of pain. She heard him coming, and her head whipped up at his entrance into the clearing, her glowing eyes staring murderously toward him.

She was a night elf, garbed in faded and distressed brown leathers that held snugly to her form. What skin of hers he could see was a light purple, and her dark blue hair flowed freely from the top of her head to the middle of her back. When her eyes sought him out, his breath caught in his throat for a moment, as he beheld the long scar that snaked from her forehead down the right side of her face, coming to an abrupt stop just below her jawline. The pair of tattoos that her people were known for resembled two red leaves encircling her eyes, thought the right one was unnervingly distorted from how badly the scar had healed. It was very clearly not the work of an accident; whomever had placed it there had clearly intended to do so. The hand cradling her head snapped away as he approached, and she crouched down as if ready to pounce. Rhadani held a massive hand out toward her and spoke softly.

“Peace, child of Elune; I have no quarrel with you.” Her eyes narrowed, but she did not respond, a low growl in her throat her only answer. She bolted forward again, sprinting toward him with such intensity that he stepped back reflexively even as he raised his hand skyward, wreathed in green magic. Roots burst forth from the fallow earth, dry and brittle but nonetheless enough to ensnare her legs. She just barely kept from falling over, and he once again held out a reassuring hand, even as she thrashed at the bindings.

“Come now, this world has enough enemies walking its surface. I’m not...entirely sure why you’re out here on your own...” he trailed off, scanning around them for any other signs of life and finding none, “but I can help you, if you’ll let me.” Her head whipped up from where it had hung looking down at the roots, and his pulse began to race faster at the sheer hatred in her glowing eyes. She snarled audibly at him, then raised both her hands to the sky, a savagely glowing and golden ball of light forming between them. His brow furrowed for a moment in confusion before shooting to the highest reaches of his face in recognition, and he dove for cover behind the nearest tree as a beam of pure solar energy rocketed down from the sky and slammed into the roots that held her in place, as well as washing all across her body. She screamed at the pain, although to his ears it was more a guttural roar of indignation, and when he emerged from his makeshift barrier, she stood freed once more. Her fists were clenched where she held them at her sides, and all across her now-sun-scorched leather armor, steam rolled off her in waves. But her eyes still held his, and he stood rooted to the spot in terror.

She gave him no time to react, sprinting forward and shifting into the malicious panther he’d first encountered. He attempted to fire his own surge of solar energy into her approaching form, but she anticipated the attack and ducked low beneath it before surging forward with an incredible burst of speed. Her front paws slammed into his chest, knocking the wind from his lungs even as their claws found purchase in his flesh. He fell backwards, and she followed, pinning him to the ground with an impressive force. For a split second he simply stared up into her glowing feline eyes, his own wide with fear, and then she roared down at him. The sound assaulted his ears at this close range, and he winced with the pain to both his body and mind. It was a cry of victory, and he knew now that there was no escape for him. She leaned back, preparing to take him in the throat, and he closed his eyes, thinking only of his family and how he’d failed them.

Suddenly, the sound of a screeching hawk cried out over the treetops to the east. It echoed twice, and after the third sounding was followed by an explosion of green light. The light cascaded outwards before turning into leaves that fell gently down among the desiccated trees past the river. Rhadani opened his eyes to see the other druid’s sharp countenance taking in the explosion, its eyes wide in what he immediately recognized as shock. He shifted slightly, and grunted in pain as one of her paws pressed down harshly into his chest once more. Her eyes snapped back to his, any uncertainty lost as they remembered his existence. His mind raced, fighting off the panic of his impending death, but he had seen the look in her eyes, and he attempted the only option he felt he had left.

“Someone is out there,” he whispered up to her, his voice pained as her weight continued to press against him. Her panther eyes narrowed again as she growled at him, and he swallowed hard before continuing. “Someone you care about; someone in trouble.” She bristled, snapping her powerful jaws at his face, and he raised his hands in surrender from where they had lay holding the paw that pinned him down. “I know words will not convince you. Believe me, I’ve learned that lesson most sincerely today. But the one who sent up that distress signal needs you now; every moment you waste only increases the amount of danger they face. Let me up, and I swear by all the good of the Earthmother, I will aid you against whatever lies beyond that river.” He waited, looking up pleadingly at her. For her part, she held his gaze for a long moment before glancing away in thought. His hope began to fade, but just when he had considered a final fight for his life, she pushed off of him with her paw, darting quickly away while keeping him in her sight.

Rhadani groaned, sitting up and rubbing the spot on his chest where she’d stood. Her familiar druidic scent washed over him once more, and when he looked up he saw her in her elven form once more. She stood apart from him, partially obscured behind a tree as she hugged herself tightly and glared at him. His brow furrowed in confusion; she had been a vicious predator mere moments ago, now it seemed as if she truly feared him. He opened his mouth to thank her, when the hawk screeched out again and her head whipped toward the sound. This time, there was no mistaking the panic in her eyes, and when her gaze snapped back to his, he only nodded.

“Quickly, now,” he called across to her as he turned to run toward where the signal had been. He shifted into his cat form mid-stride and began to cover the ground much faster. The wind kissed his light brown fur and the lion-like mane around his shoulders as he ran, and for a single moment the breeze felt altogether wonderful, though he was sure that was in no small part due to his near miss with death mere minutes before. They quickly approached the river, and he glanced across to see the familiar panther sprinting along with his pace, but staying very decidedly apart from him. She glanced to the north, and he followed her gaze, realizing as she must have that the only real crossing for the river was still quite far away from where they would meet the rushing body of water. He saw the indecision in her eyes about what to do, and put on a burst of speed, overtaking her easily. He leaped forward as he approached the river bank, shifting back into his tauren form before landing and pulling up both hands, the druidic power encircling them enough to make him light-headed. He grunted trying to contain it all, especially after his battle earlier, but his focus held true, and he saw the elf slow her pace slightly out of the corner of his eye as a swarm of roots burst forth from the riverbank. They arced through the air, twisting and conjoining into one another before slamming into the opposing bank to create a crude bridge. She saw his intent, and burst back to full speed, hitting the bridge at a breakneck pace and rocketing deftly across it as he shifted back into his cat form and followed her.

He caught back up quickly, and as they rushed across the rolling hills of these even more desolate lands, he caught her gaze, looking across to him as they ran. He expected malice, or at the very least scorn, but what he saw instead was confusion, and perhaps a small amount of consideration. He found himself confounded by her yet again, but the hawk screeched out once more, and beyond it his enhanced senses could now hear a woman ahead roaring in rage as well. He broke off his stare with the elf and rushed forward, focusing on things he could actually understand at the moment. He had given his word, after all.

* * *

“It’s not what I’d call the most elegant plan, but it should work,” Mireva mumbled as they walked together back toward the small camp he’d had the recruits establish earlier. All around them, similar small packs of sin’dorei gathered together; sharpening weapons, tightening armor straps, and solemnly preparing for the battle that each knew had nearly arrived. Talian nodded aimlessly, though his mind wandered even as he attempted to keep it in the present.

Halduron had greeted him pleasantly enough when he and Mireva had arrived at the large tent near the back of the forward camp which served as a war room. Caelyn had nodded in welcome to him as well, though she still seemed determined to avoid meeting his gaze if at all possible. He couldn’t blame her, not for a single moment, and he only hoped that she would not come to regret the trust she’d placed so reticently into his hands.

Nathanos had been an entirely different story. He’d heard tell of the only human to earn the rank of Ranger Lord, but had never met the man personally, and from the rough and direct way in which he spoke, Talian was not sure he had been worse off for the lack of acquaintance. The Blightcaller’s sunken yellow eyes and pallid skin, often opening enough to show the underlying bone, brooked no argument and promised pain to anyone foolish enough to question orders. He reeked of death, and an uncomfortable wave had passed over Talian as they had entered the tent. Mireva had given him a sharper salute than Talian had thought her capable of, and Nathanos had simply returned it with a nod of recognition; the two were clearly familiar with each other, at the very least.

What bothered Talian the most, however, was not the Blightcaller’s dour demeanor, nor the plans for their attack in just a few hours’ time. Halduron had shared with him the intelligence that the Forsaken had brought to Lor’themar’s attention, and the imminent danger that even now threatened his people. He had every desire to rush to their aid, but he knew his duty lay here. And, he thought with no small amount of humility, to have Liadrin herself defending the Enclave...its survival could be entrusted to no one better. He shook his head lightly to disperse his many worries, and turned to her as they walked back to their camp.

“Against the Scourge, I’ll take any solid plan, elegant or otherwise.” She nodded back to him.

“Agreed. Still, something seems...off...about all of this.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just that.” She stopped for a moment, turning to look out across the small expanse of rolling hills that separated them from the eastern ranges, and he followed suit. “If I were the Scourge, and don’t forget that I was, for a time,” she turned to shoot him a wry smile, and he scoffed in reply, “I’d have at least sent a scouting party, or an aerial unit, to assess the forces I’d be facing.”

Talian scratched at his chin with a gauntleted hand. “The Scourge aren’t generally known for being very tactical though...usually just press their advantage of numbers.” Mireva nodded lightly in reply, but didn’t look back at him.

“True enough, but these are extraordinary circumstances. They’re used to having the element of surprise on their side. Hell, that’s half the reason their swarming tactics work in the first place: no one has time to erect a defense. But here we are, ready to charge in formation, and Sunvale Enclave is likely being reinforced as we speak. So...where are they?” She did turn then, and even the pale yellow of her eyes betrayed concern. He tossed his head back toward the camp, and she fell into step with him again as they moved.

“It’s a good point, and definitely something to keep in mind, but I doubt it will matter much soon. In a few hours’ time, we’ll be right in the middle of them, surprise or no.”

They passed through the final smattering of tents and campfires, and arrived to see the three recruits that had been fighting-ready sitting huddled around their own fire, their heads ducked together in whispered conversation. Derevin saw them approaching, and his eyes widened a bit before he slapped the two women on the shoulders, and they separated instantly, each very determinedly beginning to inspect their weapon or armor. Talian chuckled, raising an eyebrow to the younger elf as he approached.

“Well don’t stop on my account,” he jabbed at Derevin, whose face flushed a bright red in embarrassment. Talian’s confused expression turned into a concerned frown, and he stopped by the fire, crossing his arms sternly. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, sir,” Leyera called across to him, attaching her holy tome to the large plate belt she wore. “Just...um...a bit of gossip, is all.”

“Mmhmm,” Rillia agreed, sitting down on a nearby rock to polish her greatsword. Neither met his gaze, and so he focused in on Derevin. He said nothing, merely stared at the elf, and after a moment, he crumbled.

“We...ah...we just have some concerns, is all,” he managed, swallowing hard. The two women glared daggers at him, but Talian waved at him to voice them, and he nodded. “We just...I mean…” he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, then spoke rapidly. “It’s just that the last time we faced these... _things_...it went quite poorly for us. And we’ve had some training, yes, and I don’t mean to speak ill of your aptitude, my Lord, but...we’re not sure we’re ready for this, is...is all, I suppose.”

Talian’s brow furrowed for a moment, and then a single chuckled escaped him. Derevin looked shocked, and even Leyera and Rillia stopped from their preparations to look up at him in confusion. His brief noise cascaded into a small rolling laugh that resounded in his chest, and after a moment he unfolded his arms, waving for them all to come back to stand around the fire. They followed his orders wordlessly, and once they were all arranged, he looked each in the eye for a moment before speaking.

“When I was...a far younger elf, I was told by my father to take a sword and shield from the armory, trek out into the woods, and not to return until I’d slain something worthy of my name.” He crouched down, picking up one of the larger sticks they’d brought back to use as kindling, and gripped it tightly in memory. “Not too long out of the Enclave, I came across a lynx bigger than I’d ever seen, and I knew that he was to be my kill.”

“Taking the ‘largest lynx you’ve ever seen’ without a bow,” Leyera mumbled as she stared into the crackling fire, “foolish.” Talian chuckled and nodded to her.

“It was, at that. But I was headstrong and brash, not unlike a few others around this fire.” A round of small chuckling broke out as they each looked to each other, and he smiled before continuing. “I rushed in, all rage and fury, and while I got a few good shots in on the beast, I took my fair share as well. Fortunately, the lynx thought to disengage and flee rather than press the advantage. So, I bandaged my wounds as best I could and gave chase.”

“Of _course_ you did,” Mireva rasped from beside him, and he shot her a winning grin, earning a rolling of her eyes in return, though she smiled as she did.

“Five days I tracked that beast through Eversong, through forests and across rivers. I lost the trail numerous times, only to catch a glimpse of blood or a patch of fur just when I was about to give up the hunt and return in shame. I began to think that this hunt, this eventual confrontation, was nothing short of destiny.” He paused for a moment, lost in thought, and Rillia spoke up in her fair voice, snapping him out of the deep recollection.

“Did...did you ever catch it?” He looked to her and nodded.

“I did. On the fifth day, just as the sun began to set, I found my way to its lair, a large cave in southern Quel’thalas, near where Sunsail Anchorage sits today.” They all nodded in recognition, and he continued. “I crept into the back, but he was waiting for me, clever as he was. I fought with everything I had, but he showed more ferocity in those few minutes of combat than I’d seen in any of our brief encounters in the previous days. Eventually, I won out over him, but not without great cost to myself. I barely made it back to the Enclave before collapsing. One skilled healer and two days’ rest later, and I’d earned my father’s respect for one of the very few times in my life.” He stood then, dropping the stick unceremoniously to the grass beneath them. “For whatever that was worth.” There was a long quiet moment between them, when Derevin spoke.

“My Lord...that was a grand tale, but I’m not sure how it relates to our...predicament.” Talian smiled across to him, and opened his mouth to reply, but Leyera beat him to it.

“We’re the lynx,” she said quietly, her eyes finally rising from the fire to stare into Talian’s. He closed his open mouth and nodded to her with a smile, earning a small one from her in return, before turning back to Derevin.

“No beast fights more ferociously than when it fears for its life. You feel unprepared, you feel scared, and that’s perfectly understandable.” He pointed over Leyera’s shoulder to the rolling hills to the east. “When I step out onto that battlefield, I’m scared as well. Use that fear, let it make you stronger, more ferocious, than you could ever be otherwise.” Derevin nodded to him, seemingly heartened by his words, and he continued. “Besides, this time you’ll be nowhere near alone out there; and I’ll be with you the whole way, for what the word of a Sunvale is worth.” He winked across at the man, and earned another small round of laughs from them.

“A Sunvale?” Rillia began, shooting him a wicked grin. “Not much. But I’ll take _your_ word any day, my Lord.” He laughed aloud at that, and shook his head, pointing an accusing finger around at the three of them.

“Any of you call me ‘my Lord’ one more time, and I’ll have some _words_ for you, that’s a promise.” They continued to laugh, the tension bleeding out of them right before his eyes, and he nodded in satisfaction. “Alright, get your gear together and prepare however you need; Halduron wants us ready to move out as soon as the sun sets.” They mumbled assent as he moved across the small campsite to gather his own items, trying to keep the grin from his face. These elves weren’t Sunvale, but they believed in him all the same, and for the countless time he found himself thankful that Liadrin had pushed him to take up his house’s mantle. Maybe, just maybe, he’d make a decent leader, after all.

* * *

Halduron Brightwing leaned against the large tree, a satisfied smile crossing his lips as he watched the newest member of the Silvermoon elite address his small retinue of troops. The setting sun had allowed the tree to cast a long, lingering shadow that stretched out across the twilight landscape, and it was in this shadow that Halduron had found himself waiting to see how the other elf would handle the concerns of his people.

That hadn’t been his original purpose in following Talian from the Command Tent, of course, but it had been an enjoyable benefit nonetheless. He had intended to have a moment alone with the Lord of House Sunvale, to congratulate him for...a great many things. Truth told, Halduron had many fond memories of Talian and Kalos Sunvale’s many pranks and capers, and the fact that they alone had stood against the Scourge wearing their house’s colors had given them an unimpeachable place of respect in his mind. He had little doubt that Talian would be the ideal vessel for the restoration of House Sunvale, and in fact eagerly looked forward to the house’s revival. And yet something...some small, even jealous, part of him demanded to appraise the elf, to _know_ for certain if Liadrin had made the correct choice.

He had no solid proof that they’d finally accepted the mutual attraction between them, but the years he’d spent filling Sylvanas Windrunner’s boots as the Ranger-General of Quel’thalas had given him a keen aptitude for reading other people, and the evidence had been all over Liadrin when last he’d seen her. Despite the dire circumstances to which she’d returned, there was an ease to her step, a self-assurance he hadn’t seen in her since she’d returned from Outland, and a glint in her eye that just told him some large burden had finally been lifted from her shoulders. He was happy for her, for both of them, truly, but that small piece of him still raged in indignation at not having been the elf to inspire that change in her, and as he leaned against the tree with his arms folded, he had to gently remind himself once again that it was not his place to make her choices for her, and that all things considered, she _had_ made an excellent one.

“So?” the soft voice called from behind his shoulder, and rather than start in surprise, his smile deepened as he turned to meet Caelyn’s glowing eyes in the twilight. She held a small fruit in each hand, and extended one to him, which he took with a grateful nod. He took a bite, chewing thoughtfully before replying.

“I think he’ll do well.” She looked at Talian over his shoulder for a long moment, then nodded.

“So do I.” He arched an eyebrow.

“I wouldn’t have expected that reaction from you, if I’m being honest.” She met his gaze for a moment, then shrugged.

“We talked.”

“About?”

“The past. And the future.” She stared into his eyes as she took another bite of the fruit, and he knew from years of working alongside her that he’d get no further with that line of questioning. He simply nodded, and a small silence fell between them. She looked away for a moment, and he very much felt that she wanted to say something, but Caelyn was the type of woman who would speak only in her own time, and Halduron had long since learned to simply give her the time she needed.

“Does it sit well with you?” She spoke at last, her voice almost inaudible over the light breeze that stirred its way through the woods. He met her gaze levelly, though his brow furrowed in confusion. She only returned his stare, then rolled her eyes after a moment, fixing him with an even more knowing stare, as if to call him a fool for ever doubting she knew the truth. He smiled, shaking his head sadly.

“I’m just fine, Caelyn,” he replied gently, and although her eyes narrowed slightly in disbelief, he saw the flicker of a smile across her lips at his informal use of her name. “That...would never have worked well, for either of us. Remnants of a previous life, to be certain.” She nodded along with him, but the smile did not leave her face. After a moment she seemed to realize it, wiping it instantly away and looking out over the hills, her cheeks flushing slightly.

“Well...if you say so,” she managed eventually. “I’m just making sure you’re alright before we go barreling into a line of trolls and...sun’s grace, I don’t even _know_ what else.”

Halduron smiled across at her, taking a step forward and placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Her eyes snapped to his immediately, and he suppressed a laugh. “We’ve got an incredible force, and unyielding resolve; let them throw whatever they want to our way, and we will overcome it. Still...whatever happens,” he continued softly, “ _do_ try to stay alive, Caelyn.” Her eyes widened a bit, obviously moved by his concern, and she nodded. He returned the gesture, then moved to walk back to the Command Tent, but not before calling back over his shoulder.

“Training your replacement would be an absolute _nightmare_.”

He laughed first at the outraged face she made in response, and then again, twice as hard, when the fruit she’d been holding struck the back of his head.


	20. Chapter 18

**~ 18 ~**

The cool night wind stirred through the forests of eastern Eversong Woods as the mixed forces of sin’dorei and Forsaken moved across the gently rolling hills and towards the imposing mountain ranges. Beyond them, by all accounts, lay a veritable swarm of the Scourge and their troll supplicants, and Talian found himself gripping the pommel of his blade a bit tighter than he might have otherwise, his jaw set squarely. Glancing to his left, he could see Halduron and Caelyn at the head of a host of Farstriders. Halduron kept his gaze trained on the path ahead, peering into the night for any sign of an ambush or other surprise. Caelyn seemed to attempt the same, but every so often Talian could see her gaze flick over to watch the Ranger-General, a mask of subtle concern playing over her features. He wondered at that for a moment, until the shrill bird-call rang out from ahead, drawing his attention.

A scout ran down from the slopes ahead of them, her sun-gold hair trailing behind her in a bouncing tail as she ran. She pulled up short before Halduron and Caelyn, as well as Nathanos who had approached seemingly from nowhere, and made a report. She was too far for Talian to hear the words, but Halduron’s surprised look gave away the importance. Talian motioned for his recruits to stay where they were and crossed the now-halted battle lines to approach them.

“--won’t be that easy,” Halduron finished as Talian drew near. The other elf nodded to him in greeting, which he returned. The scout’s face was a mask of terror, and he wondered just how many Scourge she’d seen.

“Are there more than we predicted?” he asked to no one in particular. Halduron turned to him, shaking his head.

“No, that’s just it. There aren’t any at all.” Talian arched an eyebrow in confusion, then looked back to the scout, who nodded her head in agreement.

“We all confirmed it. There are certainly remnants of a Scourge presence, a large one at that, but not a single enemy to be seen.” She paused for a moment, shivering though the night was not particularly cold. “Plenty of troll corpses, but nothing walking.”

“The Enclave?” Talian asked quickly, straining to keep the fear from his voice. Nathanos shook his head.

“I sent a pair of scouts to Sunvale, ahead of our advance. They’ve reported that all is quiet in the north.” Talian nodded to the undead human, both in understanding and no small amount of gratitude. The Blightcaller seemed not to notice, immediately turning his attention back to the mountain range. “We continue the advance. They may be in hiding, or may have truly fled, but either way we will find some measure of what happened there.”

Halduron glared at the man for a moment then nodded. “Agreed. Let’s move.”

Talian returned to Mireva and the recruits, giving them a summary of what had transpired, and they continued the march, soon passing through the foothills and into the mountain pass. Time seemed to slow, but no enemy rose to face them, and soon the small force found itself standing amidst a ruined vale. The ground was dark with the seeping corruption of the Scourge, and stray Nerubian webbing hung from the rocks and trees around them. The bodies of dozens of trolls lay everywhere, some killed quickly, others clearly tortured, and Halduron motioned for them to fan out and search the area.

Talian led his group to the rear of the vale, some distance apart from the others, to a roughly-made stone altar slick with dark blood, long since dried. On the ground nearby, a wicked metal dagger lay atop the corrupted ground, small blue runes visible on its surface. The blade held his eyes transfixed for a long moment, and just before he reached out to inspect it, a gruff voice called from behind the altar.

“ _Ras’to maka een tikka rel’na…_ ” The voice startled him, but his head whipped around to find the source. Stepping carefully behind the altar, it was apparent. A troll lay on the ground, clutching ineffectually at a ribcage black and blue with bruises. His otherwise green skin was marred in many places by cuts and burns, and the many braids of his fire-red hair were darkened in spots with his own blood. Still, even wounded as he was, the troll met Talian’s gaze levelly, an implicit challenge held within their depths.

“I can’t understand you,” he called down to the troll. His eyes narrowed in response; clearly the problem went both ways. Talian stared down at him for a long moment, then stepped aside when he felt Mireva’s bony hand on his shoulder. Upon seeing her, the troll’s eyes widened in fear, and he seemed to summon every bit of strength he possessed to crawl backward and away from her, but the action was far too slow. Mireva reached out, her hand glowing with a dark energy that seemed to drink in what little light there was all around it. After a moment of murmured whispering, a small purple orb moved forward from her fingers, drifting slowly toward the troll before it touched his head and seemed to sink into the skin there. The troll groaned, reaching up a hand to cradle his head, and after a moment shook it to ease the pain. His eyes narrowed again, this time in anger, as he growled at the pair of them.

“What’cha be drapin’ me in all kindsa foul magics for?! Ya not tink I had enough’a all ya Scourge-tainted messin’ about in me mind?!” Talian nodded to Mireva in thanks, and she returned it before stepping back once more. He knelt down to be on a closer level.

“Calm yourself, troll. We’re hunting the Scourge, not aiding them. Or does the armor not give it away?” He gestured to himself and his recruits in their armor indicative of the Order, and the troll scoffed.

“A’right, so ya not be treatin’ wit da Scourge, but dat armor be tellin’ me ya sometin’ just as bad for ol’ To’rundi…” he trailed off, pointing to the Silvermoon crest on Talian’s chest.

“Tell me what happened here, where the Scourge went, and it doesn’t have to be bad at all,” he replied. Behind him, he could hear Derevin scoff, and he shot the elf a glare that froze the sound in his throat. The elf turned the scoff into a muffled clearing of his throat, pointedly avoiding Talian’s gaze, and Talian looked back to To’rundi. The troll coughed, a bit of blood coming up to rest against his balled fist, and shook his head.

“I tell ya what happened!” His eyes were a glare now, but Talian didn’t believe it was one meant for him. “Mazo’kan happened, Bwonsamdi take him! Dat fool of a troll gone an’ sold my people out ta da Scourge!”

“Why would he do that?” Leyera asked over Talian’s shoulder. “The trolls suffered just as much as we did when Arthas marched through Quel’thalas.” Beneath Talian, To’rundi only chuckled darkly, the gesture turning into a coughing fit before he caught his breath and replied.

“Ya, we did at dat, pretty elf. But da best candidates for joinin’ da Scourge be da ones who want powah at any cost. And Mazo’kan _always_ been one’a dem. Da Lich King be lookin’ ta finish what he started in dese lands, and da one who helped him last time be helpin’ him again now.”

“Drathir…” Talian whispered. To’rundi nodded.

“And now Mazo’kan be in league wit’ him, offerin’ my people up as slaves ta his will!” To’rundi glared at the ground for a long moment, seeming to consider a dangerous thought, then sighed heavily and met Talian’s gaze once more. “I make a bargain wit’ ya, elf. Dere still be more’a my people out dere, in hidin’ from Mazo’kan’s madness. Ya let me live, an’ I swear by all da loa I bring ‘em ta fight da Scourge; Mazo’kan and Drathir included. Dis not be a fight ya wanna face wit’out every advantage, I can promise ya dat.”

“Tell me where they went,” Talian stressed. To’rundi looked at him for a long moment.

“I gonna need ya word, mon…” Talian closed his eyes in frustration. Making a deal with the troll was something he’d hoped to avoid, not to mention what Liadrin would think about the matter...He sighed, then nodded as he opened his eyes to look back at To’rundi.

“You have it. Now _where_?” To’rundi nodded in agreement, then raised a wavering finger to point northward as a pit of cold ice formed in Talian’s gut.

“Da Nerubians took ‘em ta da north. Dey be plannin’ to overrun the refugees in dat mountain village, den burrow under da walls’a Silvermoon itself.” Talian swore, leaping back to his feet and making to walk away, when To’rundi’s cry stopped him. “Wait, mon! Ya cannot go aftah dem!” Talian rounded on him, eyes ablaze with rage.

“And why not?”

“Because mon, dat _whole_ effort be a diversion. Da Nerubians want ya in da north so Mazo’kan and Drathir be free in da south.”

“What are they after?” To’rundi shook his head despondently in reply.

“Dey want da largest population’a trolls in dese lands ta kill an’ raise for da Lich King, mon…” he coughed again, then met Talian’s gaze sternly. “Dey be headin’ ta Zul’aman.”

* * *

 

“Five more on the southeastern corner; I want the gap from the ridge to the southern wall covered twice-over,” Liadrin called out to one of her knights as she passed. Her tone held no anger, and yet it was clear she would brook no argument. The elf saluted her in acceptance of the order, but broke off eye contact with her quickly. That was probably for the best, as far as she was concerned; she’d heard the comments he’d made about defending this place. Her eyes narrowed as she stalked among the half-desecrated buildings of Sunvale Enclave, while all around her, regiments from Silvermoon and Sunvale elves alike prepared the defenses for whatever could come at them from the south. She pulled up suddenly, scanning the battlements for any sign of trouble. Seeing only her own elven archers preparing their positions, she allowed herself a moment to breathe.

The Enclave was already a very defensible position, she knew that for a fact, but still she continued to rack her brain for any scant tactic or piece of knowledge that would make it even more so. The mountains around them gave much in the way of natural fortification, but there were some places where the terrain was ill-suited for defense. The southeastern corner, for example, led quickly away from the Enclave and down a gentle slope towards the eastern shore. It was lovely for a view, but less so when expecting an attack, especially from an enemy who favored swarming tactics. Her mind swam with every ounce of tactical knowledge she’d ever learned, some of it even from the elf whose home she was now giving everything she could to defend.

The fury of thoughts seemed to grind to a halt in her mind as she remembered Talian, and she closed her eyes with a soft sigh of frustration, offering up silent prayers to the Light once more that he would be safe. When she opened her eyes, they were narrowed once more in determination. He endured the hateful stares, the whispered comments behind his back, and yet still stood to defend Quel’thalas; she would make damned sure that his home, and his people, were defended with just as much zeal. Lost in her own thoughts, she hadn’t noticed the elf that had approached her, and now seemed absolutely terrified to be in her presence, with the look that she wore on her face.

“Ah...Lady Liadrin…” Irenia began, her hands wringing together in front of her. “I...I can come back at a later time, certainly.”

“Hmm?” Liadrin answered, snapping out of her distraction. In a moment, the situation settled onto her, and her eyes opened wide in apology as she reached forward to place a hand on the elf’s shoulder. “Oh, no. I’m very sorry Irenia; I was thinking about something else. How can I help?” Irenia returned her smile and nodded gently, the fear bleeding out of her at once.

“Well, I’d say you’re helping quite a bit already,” she said with a slight laugh, and Liadrin smiled warmly at her. “And I appreciate you allowing those of us with some combat training to help in the defense. We’re all...very proud of this place.” She trailed off a bit, looking around at the throngs of elves preparing for a fight. When she looked back, Liadrin only nodded to her.

“I understand, and it’s no trouble.” She gestured forward, and Irenia fell into step with her as she moved across the Enclave to check the western gate. “What did you need?”

“Nothing, actually. I just came to inform you that we’ve been able to repurpose the majority of the old residences here into a sort of rudimentary barracks.” Liadrin arched an eyebrow in surprise as they walked. She’d told the soldiers under her command that they could expect to be sleeping in tents or on the hard ground, given the last-minute notice of their deployment, and she didn’t recall asking anyone to house her soldiers...Her look seemed to impart that unspoken question, though, and Irenia laughed lightly before waving away her concern. “We took it upon ourselves, my Lady. I’m sure your retinue has no small amount of elves who have...concerns...about defending the Enclave, after all that’s happened in the past. We wanted to make sure we made an impression.” Liadrin shook her head, but a smile still spread across her lips.

“Well, giving a soldier a hot meal and a warm place to sleep is about the best impression you can make, as far as I know,” she replied. She snapped an arm out to grab one of her officers as they passed, relaying the news to him and telling him to adjust the rotation accordingly and tell the troops. The sergeant’s eyes grew wider at the promise of a good night’s rest, and he gave them both a short bow before rushing off at a much faster clip to spread the good news. “Look at that,” Liadrin mused aloud as she watched him go, “they’re already excited about it.” She gave Irenia a wink, and the other woman laughed.

Irenia stayed beside her as she completed her inspection of the western defenses, satisfied at what her people and the Sunvale residents had been able to do, and as night drew in around them without any sign of an attack, Liadrin realized suddenly that she was without a thing to do. The troops were in position, comfortable and well-fed by the recent crop from Sunvale’s own stores, in high spirits yet alert and ready for a fight. She stopped in the middle of the camp, placing her hands on her hips and sighing quietly in satisfaction.

“Thank you, for all of this,” Irenia whispered from behind her. She turned her head to regard the other elf, seeing her eyes shine with tears she was desperately trying to hold back. Liadrin simply smiled to her.

“Of course. It’s my duty to protect _all_ of Quel’thalas; no matter what.” Irenia nodded in reply, sniffed a moment, then exhaled sharply, regaining her composure.

“Then I had best show you to your command post,” she replied. Liadrin looked at her with no small amount of confusion, and Irenia simply smiled in return, tossing her head back toward the main building. She fell into step beside her, the pair of them crossing through familiar hallways until they stood outside the Lord’s chamber. “I believe you’ll recall Lord Talian’s chambers?” she asked, but did not make for that door. Instead, she led her a few steps further down the hallway to a larger pair of doors, which she opened with a key.

The doors swung inward to reveal a massive room, nearly twice the size of Talian’s. A grand table dominated the main space of the chamber, and on its surface lay a large and intricate map of Quel’thalas. The back wall of the chamber was comprised of only three thick stone columns, the space between them leading out onto a large balcony that overlooked the rest of the Enclave and a great amount of land to the west and south. She brushed her gauntleted hand against one of the columns as she walked past it and out into the warm night air. Irenia followed her quietly, only speaking when they stood outside.

“It’s said by some that Caresian had two elves on this balcony at all times, watching for other houses moving into Sunvale territory.” Liadrin gave a derisive grumble in response.

“If that bastard excelled at one thing, it was paranoia.” beside her, Irenia snorted.

“The guilty often do.” She paused for another moment, then sighed lightly. “I’m afraid I must see to those who will not be fighting; it is my place to ensure their safety.” Liadrin turned to nod to her.

“Of course, thank you for showing me this, Irenia.” Irenia smiled and inclined her head in a respectful bow, then left to attend to her duties. Liadrin leaned forward, calling down to two of her most instrumental lieutenants. They met her gaze at once, and she waved them up. They both nodded, instructing their subordinates to take command, and made for the main building. Liadrin looked out over the southern reaches as far as she could, but saw nothing amiss. Still, that feeling of impending battle crept undaunted across her skin, shaking her every nerve to a tense readiness. After a moment, she heard her lieutenants enter, one of them whistling at the scale of the room.

“Take point here,” she told them. “I want a constant watch on the southern gate, and your troops are just below if you need to give them orders. They both nodded, and in the quiet of the moment, a feeling, almost a need, pulled at her that she tried to shove away. It continued to press against her mind, however, and eventually she shook her head, waving her lieutenants through to the balcony. They both saluted her and moved past her to take up their posts while she stepped out of the room and down the hall, eventually coming to a stop outside Talian’s door. She gingerly reached out to try the handle and found it unlocked, a small smile spreading across her lips.

She opened the door to see the chamber just as she recalled it, stoic and resolute just like the elf to whom it belonged. She stepped into the main area, closing the door behind her, and began to cross to the south-facing window when her eye caught the Phoenix Blossom in its vase on his mantle. She grinned then, crossing to retrieve it before moving to sit on the ledge of the window. She continued her vigil while twirling the small blossom between her fingers, watching for any sign of trouble while also wondering if Talian and the others were well. A long moment passed, and the sound of the chamber door opening drew her sharp attention. The older elf she’d met before entered, a similar blossom held in his own hands. His eyes widened in surprise at seeing her, followed by a smile parting his lips as he saw what she held. He chuckled lightly as he crossed to place the fresh flower in the vase.

“Well, that is certainly a shame,” he mused aloud, shaking his head.

“What is?” she asked quietly, meeting his gaze with a slightly narrowed one of her own. His smile only deepened slightly as he shrugged.

“From where I am standing, it looks like I would have won that wagering pool regarding the meaning of these flowers.” A cold spike of shock ran through her. She had no reservations about telling anyone and everyone what she and Talian were to each other, but she understood that he did, and she didn’t begrudge him for it. Still, if word got out without his knowledge, he might be embarrassed. Of her? No, certainly not… She shook her head, dispersing the uncomfortable thought.

“ _Would have_ won it?” She prodded, and the older elf crossed to stand next to her, looking out the window as well.

“Well, it is certainly not my place to reveal something that personal, now is it?” His eyes moved from the landscape to meet her own, and she nodded slightly, giving him a thankful smile. For a moment the quiet evening seemed to draw in around them, a peaceful moment between them passing along. Liadrin closed her eyes and drank in the silence, trying to ease her racing mind. As she did, the earth surged around her.

When she opened them next, she lay across the floor of the chamber, her side aching from where she’d be thrown into the bedpost. Outside the window, the sounds of explosions, and feral screaming, tore through the night air. Her eyes flew around the room looking for the older elf as she crawled to her feet, her side roaring in agony, and she found him on the far side of the room. He moved to stand as well, and though one arm was bent at an odd angle, he used his other to wave her out of the room.

“I will be fine! Go!” She nodded to him, rushing from the room and out to the balcony. Her lieutenants nodded to her as she approached, though they called orders down from above as they fired upon the advancing forces. Beyond them, on the ground below, the Scourge burst forward, concealed until now within tunnels under the earth. They smashed themselves against the walls of the barricade, and among their ranks she could see not only the undead and the damned spiders, but trolls as well. A fury rose within her gut, boiling until she wanted to roar in a wordless rage. Instead, she swore under her breath, then raced for the entrance, drawing her blade as she moved.

The Scourge and nerubians she would fight on principle alone, but she would die before she let Talian’s Enclave fall to Light-damned _trolls_.

* * *

 

The ghoul roared with an impressive ferocity as it sank its fetid claws into Rhadani’s flank, the sharp talons of bone and rotten flesh piercing deeply and drawing forth more blood. He lashed out with a hind leg in indignation, catching the thing square in the chest and sending it tumbling backward to collapse on the ground. It began to stir, but he spun and pounced upon it, the heavy weight of his bear form crushing the thing’s ribcage as soon as he landed atop it. Its feral maw still screeched and snapped at him, and he roared down into its face, the natural fury of his form bleeding through his thin layer of control over it for the briefest of moments, before grasping its throat in his powerful jaws and ripping the head free of the body. He tossed it aside without a thought, reaching back to lick at his fur and remove the dreadful taste from his ursine mouth.

He cast his eyes around the battlefield and, seeing a multitude of undead corpses but no further threats, allowed them to stray a bit to the east. Some fifty paces away, the night elf he’d fought with earlier stood next to the one they’d come to assist. Their heads were together as the other bandaged a large gash on the young druid’s arm, and her eyes would flicker to him occasionally as they spoke. From this distance, he could not tell if they still held unbridled fury or the curiosity he’d seen as they had approached the battlefield, and he shifted back into his natural form before crossing back toward them. The young druid seemed to flinch at his approach, and he winced, wondering if he’d managed to save himself from death at one night elf’s hands only to meet it at the hands of two.

The other elf looked up to him as he drew near, a broad smile welcoming his presence even before she’d spoken, and his fears were somewhat allayed. She was a fraction taller than the young druid, and had vibrant green hair that was tied back into a short tail. Her skin was a pale pink, just a shade darker than many of the humans he’d interacted with during his Lakota’aru, and the tattoos around her eyes were similar in shape to the young druid’s, leaves but in a shade of green that perfectly matched her hair.

“I must say I was surprised to see another druid in these lands, but I thank you nonetheless for your assistance, friend,” she called across to him. He returned her smile and waved away her thanks.

“Not at all; I was glad to help.” He looked across to the young druid, the smile still on his face, but she did not return it, her lips a thin line instead. She leaned in close to the other elf, whispering something in their lilting language, then shifted into the familiar panther and stalked away from them into the sparse forest surroundings. For a moment, the other elf watched her leave, then she let out a sigh and turned to face him again.

“I do hope Nivaera did not give you too much trouble before you both arrived here.” She had said the phrase as a statement, but he had heard the question in her tone. She shifted uncomfortably on her feet, and he nodded slightly before replying.

“Our initial meeting was...not entirely friendly. But we seem to have reached some form of an accord. At the very least, she no longer glares at me as if she’d rather see my head on a pike than entertain the thought that I mean her no harm.” The other elf chuckled slightly, balling a polite fist in front of her mouth to stymy it. When her eyes met his once more, they were apologetic.

“I am sorry for her behavior. She has had...terrible interactions with members of the Horde in the past. Things that would, I think, transform any soul into the one she is now, if it did not break them outright.” Rhadani looked off into the distance to see the panther moving into the forest, and his heart broke a bit for her. After a moment, he turned back to the other elf.

“Is that where…” he trailed off, raising a thick finger to trace along the side of his face, where he remembered seeing the wicked scar on hers. The other elf nodded solemnly.

“Yes, although I would not bring that up to her in conversation. She...prefers not to speak of it. She hardly speaks at all, as a matter of fact.” Rhadani nodded along.

“Yes, I noticed. We’ve been in each other’s tense company for almost three hours now, and she hasn’t spoken a single word. I had begun to think that perhaps she wasn’t able to speak at all.” The other elf laughed quietly at that, shaking her head.

“Oh, she can speak, I guarantee it. She just usually chooses not to.” She lapsed into silence for a moment, then shook her head once more, seemingly lost in some distant memory. “Nivaera had only just begun her training in the druidic arts when the entire circle she had been learning from was attacked by...someone. We are not sure if they were a true band of Horde warriors, or some mercenary group conscripted for...who knows what purpose. Still, she fought as best she could with her fledgling abilities, but was taken prisoner. She was forced to stay silent and watch as the rest were all cut down in front of her.”

“ _An’she_ ’s light…” Rhadani breathed, closing his eyes in pain at the mere thought. The other elf hummed in agreement.

“The next-nearest circle was alerted when Nivaera’s hadn’t checked in after some time, and they went to investigate. After tracking the group, they found the hideout in which they resided. The group was eliminated, but no indication of who their true masters were was ever found. What _was_ found was Nivaera, shivering and chained to the back wall of the cave. They had…” she closed her eyes, shaking her head at the recollection before opening them to fix on his once more. “They had thought she had information about the other circles. She was only an apprentice! But still, they…” Without thinking, he reached forward, placing a large hand on her shoulder for the briefest of moments to halt her painful re-telling.

“I believe I can infer the rest, friend.” She sighed heavily and nodded her thanks with a small smile at having spared her finishing the tale. He paused for a moment in thought. “How did she come to be in these lands?” he asked at last, stammering a bit before adding. “Ah...if it is no secret.” The elf smiled back at him, shaking her head.

“It is not. Nivaera was given to the Circle in Darnassus in an attempt to heal her mind of its great many wounds, but no treatment seemed to have any effect. What’s more...the experience had seemed to also traumatize her connection to the Dream and the natural power therein. Her forms all took on darker appearances, her solar and lunar magics became more volatile, and even her restoration spells tended to feed too much life force back into her patients, causing their hearts to race dangerously or their muscles to constrict in painful spasms.” She looked away for a moment, then sighed lightly. “For all their efforts, nothing seemed to work. So they sent her here, to a place where her rage and residual anger could be worked out.”

Rhadani balked, his eyes widening. “So she endures this most terrible of ordeals...and is _punished_ for it?” The other elf met his gaze once more, and seemed to have a biting comment that she only barely restrained. After a moment, she shook her head.

“No, although I will admit that was my initial reaction as well. In time, the Darnassus Circle hopes to bring her back and attempt their treatments again, when her instinctive reactions have been worn away a bit. I am not sure whether it is the correct action to take...but it is not my place to make that decision. All I can do is care for her on the rare occasions she will let me, and watch over her as best I can. I have tried speaking with her on many occasions, but…” she trailed off, only shaking her head. After a long moment, she took a deep breath and allowed a smile to cross her face once more. “But ah, where are my manners? I am called Rayne, a...transplant...if you will, of the Hyjal Circle.” He smiled back at her.

“And I am Rhadani, of Moonglade.” Her brow furrowed in confusion.

“Well, you are quite a way from home then, as am I.” She laughed lightly, and then her eyes brightened in realization. “You must be undertaking the Great Wandering!” He chuckled, a deep baritone, and nodded.

“I am. My children have gone to take their places in teaching and protecting the druidic arts, and my mate sleeps to stand guard over the Dream. I believed the Lakota’aru would be a better use for these old bones than sitting around gathering dust.” He chuckled again, and she joined him in it, for a moment the two of them simply enjoying a light moment amidst the chaos and death that had ravaged the land around them. He broke off from holding her gaze for a moment to survey the area, and started a bit when Nivaera approached silently from behind him. She paid him no mind, save for a small feline snort as she passed, and then shifted back into her natural form. She crossed to lean in and whisper to Rayne in their native language, her eyes glancing back at him over her shoulder. As she finished, he could see Rayne shaking her head.

“There is no need to keep that a secret, Nivaera,” she said quietly, but still the younger elf bristled. Rayne met his eyes again.

“Our expedition has plans to gather along the road, not far from here, fairly soon. We are comprised of a number of members of the Argent Dawn who split up to perform their own tasks out here in the plaguelands. Once reconvened, we will be returning to Light’s Hope Chapel.” She paused for a moment, seeming to hold him in some quiet regard, before smiling. “You would be welcome to join us, if you would like.” He returned her smile, but it faltered a bit as he saw Nivaera staring daggers at him. His gaze fell upon her scar once more, and his fear of her gave way to incredible pity instead. She was broken, and had now been abandoned to these fallow lands. If he could help her, he would, he decided without hesitation. He nodded to Rayne.

“That would be wonderful, thank you. I believe I’ve had quite enough of traveling on my own for the moment.”

She laughed in reply, waving him over, and the three of them walked together back toward the main road, Nivaera staying decidedly separate from them both, but still reticent to let either of them too far out of reach.

* * *

 

The campfire snapped and popped, quietly consuming the scant twigs and branches Vae had fed it over the course of the past few hours. She had built it with care, and a few memories of her time with Rhaga that had brought a sad smile to her face, but now she simply sat before the blaze and stared into its burning depths, letting the rolling waves of heat push back the chill of the Wetlands night. Around her in the darkness, no small amount of frogs and insects chirped out, seeking one another amidst the night, and far off in the distance she could swear she could hear the rumblings of elementals as they trudged through the marshy landscape. None of them would willingly approach a roaring fire, however, and so Vae had made it her mission to ensure it continued to burn nice and bright.

The soft sounds of rustling cloth to her right pulled her gaze from the fire, and it came to rest upon Avrena’s sleeping form. The draenei was huddled up as close to the fire as she dare sleep, arms hugging herself against the chill. Vae frowned, standing quietly and reaching for her pack. She fumbled around within for a moment before finding an old cloak she kept on-hand, shaking it loose before crossing to drape it over Avrena. She snuggled against it subconsciously, and seemed to settle down, now warm enough to fall back into a deep sleep. Vae crossed back to sit before the fire, but her eyes were still on Avrena, and the frown had not left her face.

The draenei had been seemingly distant since they’d crossed back into Ironforge. They’d gathered what supplies they might need and left through the main gate, following the snow-dusted path through Dun Morogh and into the mountain passes of Dun Algaz. She had tried to elicit some conversation from Avrena, and had even attempted to entertain her with how her voice echoed through the Algaz tunnels, much to the visible irritation of the Stormpike mountaineers who guarded the area, but nothing had managed to earn her more than a half-aware smile in return. Eventually, they had instead walked in silence, and when Vae had offered to take the first watch, Avrena hadn’t even politely fought her for it.

She huffed a sigh, blowing out her cheeks in confusion, before leaning back from her sitting position to fish around in her pack once more. Perhaps Avrena’s conversation with Aksos hadn’t gone as well as she’d thought. Although, her father had been all kindness and smiles even as they had departed, so she wasn’t sure what he could have said to upset her… Vae shook her head, resolving to take her mind off the situation and let it work itself out. She retrieved her whetstone and a soft cloth from within her pack, and reached down her thigh to pull her largest dagger free. Using some water Avrena had conjured for them earlier, she began the simple, almost ritualistic process of honing and cleaning all of her blades, the short, rhythmic rasps seeming to drown out all other sound around her as she focused on her work. Hours seemed to slip by like minutes, and before she knew it her trance was interrupted by a soft hand on her shoulder.

“Vae,” Avrena whispered, and she raised her eyes from the stone. She still held the cloak tightly around her against the chill, and in the sky around them, the black of night had seemed to give way to a slightly-warmer gray, though Vae knew that dawn was still some hours off. She glanced up and over her shoulder to meet Avrena’s glowing eyes, the face in which they sat scrunched up slightly in concern.

“Hey, what’s up?” Avrena snorted a small laugh, the most joy she’d seen out of the woman in a full day.

“You let me sleep too late,” she whispered back, as if afraid her normal timbre would somehow scare away the night. Vae shrugged, toeing a nearby log into the fire. It began to crackle and pop once more as the new fuel was consumed, the flames licking hungrily over its surface and charring the bark.

“Figured you might need it,” she offered by way of apology. “And besides, I got into a certain rhythm here,” she held up the stone and her latest blade with a half-hearted smile. Avrena sighed gently, lowering herself to sit next to Vae by the fire. As she did, she allowed her hand to fall onto Vae’s knee, and she squeezed it lightly.

“I am...sorry, about yesterday,” she murmured. “I had a lot on my mind. I still do, but...” Vae looked across to her, the draenei’s gaze intently focused on the burning fire, yet her hand remaining on Vae’s knee. Her thumb made lazy circles against Vae’s leggings as she stared ahead in thought, and the elf had to strongly push many intruding thoughts out of her mind. Perhaps the latest log hadn’t been needed? It was, after all, becoming suddenly very warm out. She cleared her throat gently, shaking her head to dispel the images within.

“You don’t need to apologize,” she whispered back, unsure if Avrena wanted her to push for details about her silence, or if she’d rather be left to her thoughts. The draenei seemed to answer her unspoken question by turning her head to look into Vae’s eyes.

“I do. My father said…” she shook her head weakly. “It does not matter. I treated you poorly when I had no right to do so, and I am sorry, Vae.” So it _had_ been something Aksos had said. Vae’s eyes narrowed slightly. If he’d said something to hurt Avrena, she would march back to Azuremyst, _walk_ there if she had to, and give him a piece of her mind! The thought startled her for a moment, her eyes widening again, and she noticed Avrena looking at her curiously.  She shrugged her shoulders in response.

“I’m sorry too,” Vae replied with a weak smile. “You know, for pestering you when you were trying to think things through. Sometimes I may not be as funny as I think I am.” She’d thought to make Avrena laugh and break some of the tension, but the draenei’s eyes widened in alarm instead, and Vae suppressed a sharp gasp of surprise as Avrena leaned forward, both hands now firmly on the elf’s leg.

“No! You were not--” she shook her head, seemingly quite upset with herself. After a moment, she met Vae’s eyes again. “It was exactly what I needed, even if I did not give it the attention you deserved. Do not apologize for trying to cheer me up. It...it was perfect. You were perfect, Vae.”

Vae’s eyes widened at the praise, and she felt her cheeks flush. Avrena seemed to realize her choice of words and recoiled slightly, stammering under her breath.

“I...I only meant that...you were just…” Vae chuckled at her flustered state, and received an only slightly-amused glare in response. She waved off Avrena’s apology and the draenei seemed to accept it, returning to her seat beside Vae before yawning slightly. Vae smiled across to her.

“Be dawn soon,” she called out softly. “Why don’t you grab a few more hours while you can?” Avrena looked back to her, confusion and concern on her face, but Vae shrugged in reply. “I feel fine, you clearly need the rest. Go on, I’ll be right here.” She softened the command with a smile, and Avrena returned it, if a bit weaker. She hesitated for a moment, then nodded as another yawn threatened to claim her. She stood once more, but stopped mid-turn to look down at Vae just as the elf began to settle back into her process. She leaned down, placing a kiss on the top of her head, and perhaps lingering a moment too long before drawing away and returning to her makeshift bed. Within a few minutes, the rise and fall of her steady breath told Vae that she slept soundly once more.

Vae interrupted her rhythm to glance over at the sleeping woman, her heart stirring with more emotions than she could count. She breathed in and out slowly, trying her hardest to control the tempest of thoughts in her mind, but still couldn’t seem to force the smile from her face. She laughed quietly to herself and shimmied her shoulders in an amused satisfaction before continuing her work.

She’d never been _perfect_ before...


	21. Chapter 19

**~ 19 ~**

_The wooden blades rang out with a harsh_ clack _as they collided mid-air. They strained against one another for a moment, then separated, their wielders both dancing away with a flourish, although one went almost dropped to the ground before the elf holding it fumbled it for a moment, then steadied her grip with a grimace of irritation. Her opponent laughed lightly at her scowl, which only deepend in response._

_“Easy,” Talian called across to her, his voice soothing but his eyes still full of mirth. “I’m not mocking you, it was just amusing, is all.” She wanted to snap off a remark at him, but looking into his warm gaze, she felt the joy emanate out towards her and couldn’t help but be swept up in its flow. She sighed, then smiled at him lopsidedly._

_“I know, just feels like we’re getting nowhere.” He only smiled in reply, shaking his head slightly. After a long moment’s consideration, he spoke again._

_“Two weeks ago you couldn’t even hold that stick properly. I’d say you’re definitely getting somewhere, even if you don’t see it. Besides, I’m the wiser, more experienced one here; you’re supposed to trust my impeccable judgment.” He tilted his chin in an attempt at haughtiness, and she barked a laugh across at him before closing once more._

_“Perhaps,” she grunted as she followed the forms he’d taught her, matching his blows with her own as he moved steadily around her, “if you_ had _any impeccable judgment, I might consider trusting in it.” He chuckled as he moved to parry one of her strikes, his feet always moving him around her, testing her defenses. His face was a mask of mock affront._

_“Well, by the Sunwell, I have_ never _been more offended, Liadrin.” She grinned at the gesture, and he returned it after a moment, stepping back quickly before lunging forward. The move caught her off-guard, and she batted away his blade as she spun backwards and away. He closed the gap quickly, and she welcomed him nearer, backing away steadily across the stone platform beside Stillwhisper Pond. She moved with care, staring into his gaze to capture it and keep him focused on her. She said nothing as they moved, the only sounds the occasional grunt of exertion as their swords clashed against one another._

_After a moment, she felt the heel of her boot graze against one of the few stone steps that led down to the water, and she pulled her guard back, leaving herself exposed. Talian dove forward to exploit what he assumed was her mistake, and she stepped quickly to the side, catching his sword arm, twisting it slightly, pivoting her weight, and shoving him backwards. His eyes shot open as he flailed his arms and tumbled into the pond, the large splash of water announcing his defeat. The look on his face and his flailing about broke her solemn concentration, and she doubled over in laughter, her sword falling to the ground, forgotten in her delight._

_She felt tears begin to form in her eyes, her chest sore from the ceaseless laughter, and after a moment she stepped forward to offer him a hand. He took it with a sharp but amused glare for her, and when he stood a second round of laughter came forward at the pond flower stuck haphazardly to the side of his head. The laughter burst forth anew, and he growled quietly as she struggled to contain it. She fell to her knees, her eyes squeezed tightly shut as she gripped fervently at her gut, wishing she could stop laughing and yet feeling more relieved and relaxed than she’d ever felt at the same time._

_“I mean…” he began, stepping past her and placing his sword on a nearby bench. “I_ want _to be mad, but I can’t deny that was a fantastic move.” He glanced over to Liadrin, who had by now composed herself and sat smiling mischievously at him, every so often allowing the smallest of chuckles to escape from within her chest. He sighed heavily, then hung his head, shaking it as he laughed along with her. After a moment, he looked back across to her, the amusement gone and replaced with simple pride. “Well done.” She forced herself to look away from him, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks at his praise, and cleared her throat._

_“Thank you,” she replied, making to stand. She brushed some dirt off of her leggings, and when she raised her eyes to meet his once more, her breath caught in her throat. He had pulled the soaked shirt off and tossed it aside, reaching for a nearby towel to dry off what he could. The afternoon sun struck the droplets snaking slowly down his back, past the myriad scars that she had done her best to heal at the riverside what seemed like forever ago now. She swallowed tightly, lost for a moment in memories of yet another time when she’d wanted to just let everything out, tell him everything she thought and felt, yet for whatever reason had kept it inside. Much like this time, she realized with no small amount of annoyance._

_“Liadrin?” he called to her, and she shook her head to disperse the memories._

_“Hmm?”_

_“I asked what’s wrong? You looked upset for a moment, there.”_

_“Oh. Um...nothing. I was just...thinking about this decision I’ve made.” He smiled and crossed to her, placing a reassuring hand on her arm._

_“You made a good one,” he soothed her. “I know you, Liadrin; you’d never be content to just stay within Silvermoon and heal the wounded. You need to be out there protecting our people from whatever would harm them. I can think of an elf or two who feels the exact same way.” He beamed down at her, and she couldn’t help but return his smile. He laughed then, turning to pick his sword back up off the bench and motioning for her to do the same. “Besides,” he continued as he dropped into a fighting stance, “you’ll probably take to it much quicker than I did. You’re a fast learner, and I’m just_ so _naturally stubborn.”_

_She laughed again, took up her sword, and charged him._

The nerubian screamed as Liadrin’s blade tore through its midsection, a dark spray of blood following its deadly edge out the other side of the beast’s body. It slumped over as it bled to death, and Liadrin snarled as she reached out a boot to kick it out of her way. All around her, the Enclave sat infested with the Scourge and trolls. They had breached the southeastern corner, just as she’d predicted, and while the majority of her troops had been stationed within fighting distance of that precarious wall, the sheer number of Scourge forces that had been brought to bear upon them had made the extra fortification all but meaningless.

Her gaze caught Irenia further across the courtyard, hurling gouts of flame and bursts of arcane energy into an advancing pack of ghouls, skeletal soldiers, and a nerubian commanding the lot. The woman’s eyes were fury and hatred, and Liadrin found it hard to believe for a moment that this was the same elf with whom she’d been laughing not an hour previously. Despite her skill, Irenia was being driven back, toward the library tower where the Sunvale noncombatants had been housed, in the same underground bunkers that Caresian had used to wait out the Scourge the last time they’d so brazenly marched through this land.

Liadrin turned on her heel and rushed to aid Irenia, and as she moved time seemed to slow. She knew the feeling well, felt the presence of the Light as A’dal had taught her, and reached out to grasp for it. As always, it seemed as if she’d placed a leaf into a raging river; the Light surged throughout her body in an instant, filling every fiber of her being and demanding more space. Her head spun at the influx of power, and the excess energy exploded outward from her back, into a pair of radiant golden wings. She raised her blade as she ran, its surface wreathed in the Light, and leaped into the air, crashing down amidst the swarm of ghouls and driving the point of her blade into the grass beneath her. Power surged from the sword, emanating out in harsh golden cracks around her, and the sharp sizzling of deadened flesh roared into being around her as the undead began to scream in pain.

She ripped the blade free of the earth, swinging it in a wide arc and catching three ghouls before they could approach, then pulled it back to deflect a nerubian talon that had sought her throat. She shoved against the blade, pushing the creature back, then twisted it in her hands and slashed, carving a ragged gash across its chest. It reared back, roaring at her in its harsh language, before launching a volley of its deadly venom towards her. Her eyes widened in shock as she brought her blade up to guard against the worst of it, but just before it struck, a shimmering arcane barrier exploded into existence around her, the foul ichor sizzling as it met the shield and slid harmlessly down its protective surface. Liadrin whipped her head around to find Irenia staring at her wide-eyed, and nodded her thanks before dodging to the side to avoid another talon.

She danced around the undead commander, ducking and weaving to avoid its limbs while the barrier protected her from its crippling venom. She watched its movements carefully, and just when it seemed to prepare for another strike, she fell back, leaving her left side exposed. The great spider screamed in victory and lunged at the opening, and she stepped to the side, grabbing the talon that had sought her death and pushing against it to slide herself down underneath the nerubian’s body. Her armor caught the weight of her fall, and she rammed her blade upward between the folds of its carapace, twisting it roughly once it had found its place. The creature wailed in pain and leaped away from her, stumbling in agony as its innards fell from the newly-opened wound. She checked her blade as the nerubian fell to the earth, and found it slick with dark blood, but no venom, then returned her attention to Irenia. The elf’s back was to the tower now as she fended off five ghouls, all that remained of the unit into which she’d crashed. Liadrin reached out a hand as she closed her eyes, feeling the Light within her surge forth. When she opened them, a glowing hammer rested in her palm, humming with energy, and she roared as she hurled it forward. It spun end over end as it screamed toward the ghouls, and just before reaching them it erupted in a cascade of light, becoming a storm of golden hammers innumerable that slammed into the undead from behind. Flesh and bone were rent asunder as the holy weapons demolished them, and when the light had faded, only empty corpses remained.

Liadrin’s breath came in ragged draws, the holy energy quickly fading within her, and she took a few steps toward Irenia to ensure she was well. The other woman saw the gesture and shook her head, waving her off to allay her fears. Liadrin nodded and turned on her heel, and the world spun. She dropped to one knee, her eyes slamming shut in focus as she attempted to will her muscles to move once more. After a moment that seemed like an eternity, the weariness faded, and she breathed deeply as she looked back upon the battle. Her glance was a moment too late, however, and a second nerubian screamed towards her, its talon already lashing out for her head. Her eyes snapped fully open in surprise, and she dove to the side a moment before being impaled, the talon raking a large cut across her cheek instead. She tumbled to the ground, rolling and coming up to face the undead creature, but no sooner had she raised her blade than a sharp pain raced through her shoulder. She roared in agony, glancing down to see the tip of a talon protruding from her shoulder. Anger coursed through her veins, lighting her senses aflame, and without thinking she reached across with a gauntleted hand, grasping the talon’s tip and snapping it roughly off. Behind her, the pained shriek of her attacker rang out, and she pushed off of the talon, snarling at the pain that spiked through her arm. She charged her original adversary, closing with the beast and deflecting an attack, sidestepping another, and driving her blade down through its back. The creature reacted immediately, crying out and dancing away from her quickly enough to rip her blade from her grasp. It stumbled away from her, clearly injured from the sword still embedded in its body, yet ready to tear her apart.

Her eyes darted around for anything she could use as an improvised weapon, and settled on the wheel of an overturned supply cart nearby. She raced for it, grabbing two of the spokes and snapping them out of their circular housing. Their jagged tips formed a pair of makeshift daggers, and she brandished them as she turned to face her attackers anew. Around her, the sounds of battle and death, from both the living and the already-deceased, created a chaotic din, and she pushed it away, settling into a void in her mind and focusing only on these two. If she could defeat them, she could keep fighting. The one missing a talon charged her first, and she rushed forward to meet it, managing her footwork to always keep her current target between her and its ally. Surprisingly, she was able to defend herself well with her improvised weapons, the sturdy spokes of the wheel dense enough to deflect the nerubians attacks. Seconds felt like hours as she squared off against the undead monstrosity, until at last an attack came wide from her right. She threw her arm out to block it, but pain flared once more inside it, and she was a moment too slow, the attack slamming into what remained of her armor and sending her sprawling away. She tumbled across the ground, her makeshift daggers clattering away across the flagstones of the Enclave, and came to rest on her stomach.

Through hazy vision, she could see her approaching enemies, and she scrambled to climb to her feet, but her arm had other plans. It roared out with pain and slipped out from beneath her, sending her crashing to the ground once more as the nerubians drew ever closer. A deep red haze began to creep in around the edges of her vision, and she screamed wordless rage at the nerubians as they approached, furious enough to give them pause for the briefest amount of time. For a moment, she could swear she heard the sounds of battle heighten, as if a new offensive had begun, but the thought passed over her mind like a breeze through the forest, and as the nerubians advanced once more, the darkness threatened to overwhelm her.

The nerubian she had impaled with her blade had not taken more than two steps before it halted with an agonized cry. Liadrin looked up sharply, pouring all the remaining focus she had into seeing clearly for the briefest of moments. A second sword now protruded from its chest, a familiar blade that twisted before ripping free, sending its target crashing to the ground. Behind it, Talian rushed forward, shoving the falling corpse away and slipping between Liadrin and the remaining nerubian just as it recovered from shock and made to strike. Its talon bounced harmlessly off of his blazing golden shield, and he stepped back, staying nearer to her rather than chasing his enemy. The beast seemed to sense his reluctance to leave her side, and stepped away, rearing its head back and preparing a gout of venom. Talian clenched his fist, his shield and the arm that held it glowing with holy power, before hurling his arm forward, a shimmering projection of his shield flying toward the nerubian’s open maw. It crashed into his target, a surge of the Light’s power cascading down the creature’s throat and searing it from the inside out. The nerubian staggered for a moment, then toppled in defeat.

Before the beast had even fallen, Talian had dropped his sword and shield, his hands racing to take her shoulders. He saw the grievous wound that even now continued to pour blood freely, and muttered under his breath. No, she realized suddenly and with alarm, he hadn’t muttered, he’d been yelling over the sounds of battle, but the voice sounded so far away in her mind...He peered at the courtyard around them for a moment, then stepped away to rip one of the brand-new Sunvale banners from its mounting on a nearby wall, racing back to her as he tore a piece from it and folded it over many times. He helped her lay back against the flagstones, then pressed the cloth against her wound, a bone-weary ache rising up from her arm in protest. She stared up at him as he screamed out across the courtyard once again, his voice sounding hoarse and strained even to her muffled hearing. She tried to speak his name, her voice too faint for her to even hear outside of her own head. Still, he’d heard it somehow, his eyes whipping back down to meet hers. He smiled down at her in encouragement, but the gesture did not reach his eyes, and she frowned as she watched him silently panic above her. She reached up her good arm, brushing her thumb across his cheek, and his eyes closed, the makings of tears forming in their corners. He leaned down over her, pressing his forehead to her own, and she closed her eyes as she drank in the scent of him, everlasting calm and determination mixed with the fire and blood of battle. The darkness in which she swam threatened to overtake her, and for a moment she felt herself slipping into its inevitable grasp. Then, as if a bolt of lightning had struck her square in the chest, her consciousness was ripped back to an alert state. Her eyes shot open as she gasped in shock, a dark, unfamiliar magic like ice water coursing through her veins, and they quickly found Mireva Ebongale standing over her, the Forsaken woman’s hands wreathed in a somewhat...drier, more faded rendition of the same Light with which Liadrin fueled her own powers.

“I’ve got her,” she heard the woman rasp across to Talian, whose tense posture above her body relaxed immediately as he released a heavy sigh. “Though she _did_ make me work for it.” The statement was directed to Liadrin, but softened with a slight quirk of her dessicated lips. The shock of her healing still raced through Liadrin’s body, but she began to feel the wound in her shoulder closing, the darkness at the edge of her vision receding, and the muffling of her hearing fading away. After a long moment, the bitter cold seeped out of her veins, and she lay back against the flagstones with a last fitful gasp of breath before her breathing steadied.

“Are you alright?” He asked her, the urgency and fear apparent in his slightly-wavering tone. She smiled up at him and nodded, words still seeming to escape her at the moment, and he removed the blood-soaked banner from her shoulder, tossing it away before leaning down to kiss her forehead. She reached her good arm up and snaked it around the back of his neck, holding him close for a brief moment before letting him go. He pulled away with no small amount of reluctance, and returned his gaze to the Forsaken. “Thank you, Mireva. I guess this makes us uneven again.” For her part, she only laughed, that grating, unsettling sound, and clapped him on the shoulder as she departed.

“I’m sure you’ll have a chance to make it up to me.”

Talian chuckled, and Liadrin made to sit up, taking his assistance when he offered it. She looked around the now-much-quieter courtyard, littered with the bodies of the Scourge, and no small amount of elves alike. Around them, a series of portals stood open, reinforcements still entering through them and immediately being directed by Caelyn Dawnrunner, moving to help survivors and fortify the defenses. She closed her eyes, feeling the sting of loss for the troops who had perished, but also an overwhelming sense of relief. They had held their ground, and the Enclave yet stood.

* * *

The man roared in defiance even as the flames consumed him, his eyes never leaving the dark figure on the ledge above. Pain and hatred warred against one another in his venomous eyes, and yet eventually, like all the others around him, they rolled back into his skull as the indifferent flames consumed him. Arzenius waited a moment before waving a hand across the field of view he held on the balcony above, its charred skin drawing an invisible magical line across the floor of the chamber below. Following the gesture, the fire snuffed out, leaving only a number of smoldering corpses on the stonework floor. The once-white of their Argent Dawn tabards had now been rendered unto ash, their flesh was now as blackened as the majority of his own, and his eyes narrowed as best they could in anger at recalling his encounter with that damned elf. He put the thought forcefully from his mind; the Master had given that task to Syrisa, it was no longer his concern. Still, he did hope that the Master would be generous enough to allow him to be the one to raise her into eternal service when the time came. He would of course have to make...modifications to her. For starters, he would cut the defiant tongue from her mouth. She would never again be able to sp--

The wave of mental force slammed into existence in his mind, and for all the times it had happened before, it still terrified him how powerless it made him feel. He dropped unconsciously to his knees inside the Terrorvale ziggurat, his muscles acting out of dark obedience rather than of his own volition. His arms wrapped themselves around his tattered robes as the dark presence seeped into his mind.

“ _Arzenius, you have served me well in the Terrorvale, but I have need of you elsewhere.”_ The voice was a clawing at his mind, darkness and death all mixed into a subconscious slick across his brain.

“Of...of course, Master,” he barely managed in reply. “How may I serve?”

“ _Presently, my minions stage a second incursion into Quel’thalas. Even as we speak, they hammer at the walls of Zul’aman, while keeping the elves occupied in the north. You will travel to Deatholme and assist an old ally; one whose work will allow us to finish what we began years ago.”_

Despite his present pose, Arzenius’ eyes narrowed in irritation as his pride was wounded. Drathir was a brilliant necromancer, to be sure, but Arzenius had always found him brash and heavy-handed. The true _art_ of the craft lay in the meticulous details and rituals, things for which Drathir had neither time nor respect.

“Master...if I may ask...what plans does Drathir have that can aid us? To my knowledge, the elves have him contained at the end of the Scar.” The presence within his mind surged in power, and he winced as his mind flared with pain.

“ _You will know when the time is right, Arzenius. Now go, and do not return until your work with Drathir is complete.”_ With a final exertion of influence, the presence dissipated as quickly as it had come, and Arzenius fell forward, the palms of his hands slapping against the stone floor as he panted and heaved for air. He felt as if he’d run for miles, and his arms shook in the aftermath of the encounter. He growled slightly in indignation, the gesture sounding mangled and raw in his charred throat, and climbed to his feet before making his way to the base of the ziggurat, where he was certain some thrall of the Master would already be waiting with a portal.

If Drathir needed help so badly as to involve the Master directly, he would get it. And it went without questioning that Arzenius would be able to vastly improve whatever the elf had conjured up in his little workshop. A sense of grim satisfaction settled over him, and he held his scarred head high as he passed through the shimmering barrier and into the elven lands.

* * *

“And…up!” one of the soldiers called, and together they moved in unison, lifting a massive wooden beam that had only a few hours ago been part of a guard tower along the southern wall. The massive object groaned as it was leaned high up into the air and then against the wall itself, getting it out of the way of common foot traffic. Talian eyed it as he passed, his expression neutral but his pace a concerned clip. Many of the Sunvale residents nodded or bowed curtly to him as he passed, and he smiled at them in gratitude, but for all the battle had brought chaos and destruction upon his home, and taken more than one of his people from him, he was still relieved.

Seeing Liadrin at the mercy of the pair of nerubians had sent a chill of fear through his bones the likes of which he’d never felt before, and he had moved with speed unfathomable to protect her. He nodded to another pair of residents as he passed them, one’s arm hung delicately in a sling, and then shook his head in disapproval with himself. He was the Lord of these lands now, he had a duty to care for these people, but for that single moment in time the entire rest of Azeroth could have ceased to exist for all he had cared, so taken with dread had his heart been. But he had been in time, and Caelyn had done a fantastic job of directing the battle in their absence.

As the battle had quieted, and Liadrin was seen to, he had mulled over the idea of recommending her for a formal commendation while walking the Enclave and assisting where he could. He thought she had more than earned it, of course, but some small part of him whispered that she would think him trying to purchase her respect, and as much as he hated to entertain the thought, it had given him pause. Continuing to think over the idea, he stepped into the main manor, shifting his arm around the blade he carried beneath it, and followed the hallways near and then through the main hall. His boots clacked loudly against the restored stone floor, but upon taking in the room he slowed immediately, stepping as lightly as he could, and stifling a laugh.

Across the empty hall, lit only by the arcane sconces of magelight, Irenia sat in the Lord’s seat. Well, sat was perhaps not the correct description, he thought to himself with a smile. She slumped over in the chair that was entirely too large for her, her head lolled to the side and resting uncomfortably on the palm of her hand, the fire-red tresses of her hair hanging unkempt around her wrist and forearm. Before her on the table, two piles sat in equal disarray; one of linen scraps, the other of perfectly wound and magically enhanced bandages. He lay the sword down gently on the nearest surface, and walked around the large head table to take up the seat next to her. He looked at her sleeping form for a long moment, then took up one of the linen pieces and folded it into a makeshift pillow. He reached across to her gently, supporting her head while removing her arm and replacing it with the small pillow against the edge of the Lord’s seat. Slowly, he allowed her head to come back to rest upon it, and smiled as she shifted in the seat with a sleepy mumble. After a moment, he turned his attention to the table, picking up one of the linen pieces and beginning to wind it into a usable bandage. Time seemed to slip around him as he lost himself in the mundane task, and after an indeterminate amount of time, he started slightly at hearing her voice.

“I’m sitting in this chair, and you’re the one winding bandages,” He looked across to see her eyes half-lidded, but the smile already creeping across her lips. “Does that mean I’m in charge now?” He chuckled at her, tossing a newly-wrapped bandage towards her. It bounced off her forehead and tumbled back to the table’s surface, and her scrunched up face and groan of quiet annoyance caused him to laugh fully. She opened her eyes again to glare at him, then stood up slowly, reaching her arms above her head to stretch with another groan.

“I don’t know,” he replied with feigned concern, “if you can’t handle a bandage to the face, however will you handle the throne?” It was her turn to laugh, but when her eyes met his once more, he could see the slight hesitation in them, as if afraid she had offended him somehow. In reply, he only reached over and patted the Lord’s seat once more, and she smiled warmly down at him before resuming her seat upon it, reaching out to help him with the bandages.

“How is Lady Liadrin faring?” she asked quietly. She glanced over to meet his eyes, and he blew out a long sigh, shaking his head.

“She’ll be fine, or so I’m told. Gave me quite the scare, though.” Irenia laughed quietly, and his arched eyebrow prodded her to reply.

“Perhaps some recompense for your expedition in the south?” He growled slightly in reply, winding the bandage on which he worked perhaps a bit too hard, but eventually nodded.

“Yes, perhaps.” He shook his head once more. “They’ve got her upstairs now. I was sent to retrieve her blade, like a good soldier.” When she looked across, he smiled wryly to her, and she laughed lightly, then reached over to pat him on the shoulder.

“I believe I can finish these. You should go see her.” Talian met her gaze for a moment, then nodded, standing and retrieving Liadrin’s blade before crossing the remainder of the hall. Irenia nodded to him warmly once more as he passed the threshold, and he followed the familiar hallways of his family’s home until they led him upstairs and to the large door that he had so feared passing by in his youth. He reached out to open the door, but ended up resting a hand lightly upon its wooden surface for a moment instead. He felt the history of this place bleed across into the palm of his hand, and tried as he had many times to suppress that old, lingering fear. This home, these lands, they belonged to him now, and yet still he felt his father’s shadow looming around every blind corner, in every darkened hall or alcove. He sighed once, then pushed forward, opening the door and stepping into the room.

Starlight from the open window mingled with the few lit braziers along the walls to cast the room and its occupants into a soft orange glow. Liadrin sat on one of the edges of his bed, in a strange state of undress, as she still wore her legplates and boots, but her chest and arms were free, save for the small shirt she always wore beneath her breastplate. The firelight gleamed against a spot on her chest, and he smiled slightly as he saw the silver dragonhawk hanging there from its slender chain. He raised his eyes to meet hers, and her knowing smile only deepened his own as he crossed to place the blade beside her on the bed.

“One hastily and accidentally discarded sword, as requested.” He bowed with a flourish as he stepped away, earning a small round of chuckling from the room’s occupants, Liadrin included. Behind where she sat, Mireva worked her faintly glowing magic, applying some more nuanced healing to the fresh wound in Liadrin’s shoulder, having now stabilized her from anything worse. Across the room, Zarevin was working to light the last of the dormant braziers, though the elf was managing it with one arm. Talian’s brow creased in confusion. “Zarevin, were you out there fighting off the Scourge as well?” The older elf merely chuckled in reply, nodding towards Liadrin.

“No, my Lord. I had only been speaking with Lady Liadrin when the first attack came. I’m afraid I may have damaged your dresser in the falling.” Talian followed his gaze behind him to see the cracked and split door, into which the elf had clearly been flung. He winced slightly at noting the thickness of the wood, but when he looked back to the older elf, Zarevin simply shook his head slightly and waved his hand. Were the situation less grim, Talian might have laughed at the sheer tenacity of the old elf. He crossed back over to Liadrin, hooking the toe of his boot under a nearby stool and dragging it across to sit in front of her. His bed sat higher up than most, and so he found himself looking slightly upward into her eyes, and the soft smile that accompanied them. He returned it, sighing heavily as the last vestiges of the tension that had gripped him for the past few hours dissipated in her presence. She nodded slightly at the gesture.

“Yea, I know what you mean.” Talian scoffed and gave her a feigned look of disdain.

“Please. I did all the work out there; though I’d wager you could tell me quite well how comfortable the flagstones are.” He grinned at her as he finished, and a scowl crossed her face as she reached out to slap his shoulder with her good arm. It stung more than he’d expected, but he laughed regardless, and when he looked back to meet her eyes, he saw a small quirk at the corner of her lips as well. He reached forward, slipping the loose collar of her shirt off the edge of her shoulder and carefully examining the tender skin of her puncture wound. He couldn’t suppress the wince at seeing it; while the wound had healed well, the fresh skin was still pink as if burned some time ago, and the bright red tendrils of newly-mended veins and vessels showed brightly through its surface. “You alright?” he asked quietly, looking up into her eyes once more. She nodded.

“I’ll be fine, Talian. We all saw much worse in Outland.” He saw the slight reflexive wince she gave at having said the thought aloud, and while he appreciated it, it did little to stem the wave of guilt that flooded over him whenever she spoke of her time beyond the Dark Portal. He should have been there with her, at least that was his own fervent belief. Yet every time, she’d told him how thankful she was that he hadn’t been; that he hadn’t seen the woman she’d become due to desperation and hatred. He could understand her point, but still...He shook his head slightly to dispel the perpetual argument he’d visited many times before.

“Alright, fair enough. What can I do to help?” She smiled back at him, then gave a sigh of her own.

“Update me on the situation? I didn’t see Halduron or Nathanos come through that portal.” Talian shook his head in reply.

“We made the attack as planned, but by the time we’d gotten through the pass, the Scourge had already moved out; north to here, as it turned out. We found a fair number of dark altars, Scourge magic, and dead trolls.”

“Hmm. Explains the undead ones we saw here.”

“Right.” Talian stood up and crossed to the open window, looking out over the carnage the Scourge had brought to bear upon his home. He leaned against the stone wall for a long moment, a torrent of shame, guilt, and pride in those who had fought swirling within him. He lost himself for a moment in its grasp, but was pulled out of it by the touch of her hand on his arm. He turned to see her standing beside him, her eyes concerned and searching for his own. He smiled weakly back at her, unsure of what to say, but before he could speak, she turned back to the others.

“Could you give us the room for a moment, please?” The pair of them nodded immediately, moving towards the door, which Zarevin held for Mireva before closing it behind him. No sooner had it closed than the hand she’d rested on his arm moved upward to cup the side of his face. He stared down the few inches of height between them, then closed his eyes. He felt her step closer to him, and wrapped an arm carefully around her waist.

“I should have been here,” he whispered, opening his eyes again, but immediately looking back out the window over the Enclave. Her thumb brushed his cheek lightly.

“You were here when it mattered,” she replied quietly. “Your people love you, and they understand you have a duty to the Order. And I mean it when I tell you they fought just as bravely as did my own knights.” She slid her hand down to lightly take hold of his chin and turn his head back to meet her eyes. She held his gaze for a moment, and then they narrowed slightly. “What else happened in the mountain pass?” He sighed, then shook his head.

“We found...a survivor. One of the trolls.” Her eyes narrowed further, and he squeezed her lightly.

“I know, believe me I do. But this troll...he said the Scourge are preparing for a second invasion of Quel’thalas. And they’re moving to capture Zul’aman to bolster their ranks.”

“Sun’s fucking grace…” she whispered harshly, her eyes tearing away to look back across the room in thought. “And you’re sure this troll’s information is reliable?” He shook his head.

“I’m not. Halduron and Nathanos took half of our forces and made their way south. I was to inform you and have you lead us to regroup with them there once the Enclave was secure.” She made a small noise of understanding in the back of her throat, then extricated herself from his arm and moved across the room, picking up the inner lining of her breastplate.

“That explains Lieutenant Dawnrunner’s arrival,” she mused as she fumbled with the armor. She passed it to the hand on her injured arm to hold it for a moment and winced, dropping it back to the floor with a muffled curse. He took a reflexive step toward her, but she waved him off, staring down at the armor for a moment before sighing heavily. She stood back up to her full height and faced him once more. “I think we’re going to have to make a modification to the plan, although you’re not going to like it.” He narrowed his eyes in confusion towards her, folding his arms across his chest.

“Doesn’t matter if I like it,” he replied quietly, meeting her gaze with conviction. “You order it, and it’s done. That’s how this works.” A slight grin quirked up at the corner of her mouth.

“Oh? Is that how this works?” She crossed the room once more to stand in front of him, looking up into his eyes. He recognized this gaze, and his throat tightened in response. He cleared it softly, though it was enough to tell her she’d succeeded, and she grinned slightly.

“Well...yes. You’re in command, Liadrin. Once we’ve gotten you back into that armor, everyone out there will be following your orders.” The smile slowly slipped from her face then, replaced by reticence once more, and confusion washed over him. Had he said something wrong? He leaned in slightly to kiss her in reassurance, but she stopped him with a single slender finger across his lips.

“No,” she whispered, her tone full of certainty, but her eyes already begging his forgiveness. “They’ll be following yours.”

* * *

The ringing of steel and the stench of death filled the darkened halls of Acherus, and all around them Kalos could see and hear death knights of every race and homeland, moving about in preparation for the impending assault. Something in a dark, recessed part of his mind attempted to feel revulsion at the idea of joining the Scourge in an assault of any outpost, but every time he tried to reach for the feeling and try to understand why it existed, it slipped away back into the corners of his thoughts. The situation irritated him, but only slightly. Every emotion he had felt dampened, as if he felt everything through the fabric of a thick blanket, and while that distant part of himself begged to be released and flood him with the knowledge of just _why_ everything was so wrong, he had no idea how to make that happen. And so he settled for crossing his arms in front of his chest as he half-listened to the undead night elf standing before the pair of them.

They had been placed under her command the moment they’d arrived, and for her part Syrisa had done well in playing the part, though he knew the task was far more difficult for her than for him. In their new state, they wanted for neither food nor sleep, and so he had made a point to spend as much time as possible at her side, ready to pull her out onto a secluded balcony or an empty side room at the slightest hint that her veneer of indifferent malice might be fading. Syrisa had seemed to appreciate his attentiveness; he was simply satisfied at keeping them from being discovered. She perplexed him completely; he knew her name, and his clouded mind recalled scant flashes of memory that may have regarded her, but it was all a mess, just like everything else inside his skull, and he pushed the struggle of thinking about it away as their commander continued.

“The Master demands this,” she hissed back at the pair of them, her lifeless yet glowing blue eyes narrowing in barely-contained malice. “You _will_ see it done.”

Kalos glanced to the side, seeing the mere thought of obeying the directive he’d missed hearing horrify Syrisa in the minute, almost imperceptible twitches of her face. She shuffled a bit, then opened her mouth to reply, but before she could speak, he had stolen the moment from her.

“I’ll do it,” he replied to the undead commander. Her venomous gaze turned to regard him fully, and he narrowed his own eyes in response. Syrisa’s capability to hold up under her scrutiny may have been lessened by the changes in whose midst she now spun, but for all his desire to fight the Lich King, he at least still retained his icy indifference. The woman looked him up and down for a moment, then nodded.

“Fine, you’ll do. You,” she gestured back to Syrisa, “go prepare for the assault; we’ll be underway shortly, and we wouldn’t want you missing out on _that_ , now would we?” She turned away without waiting for a response, and Syrisa’s eyes immediately found his own, hers wide with blossoming concern. He shook his head slightly, and she seemed to remember where they stood, neutralizing her expression once again but still holding his gaze. He glanced around them for any onlookers and, finding none, reached out to squeeze her shoulder gently, nodding down at her. She returned the gesture, and he turned to follow after the commander. Part of him, a small part from seemingly ages ago, told him to look back, to reassure her she would be fine.

Instead, his eyes remained forward, his step never faltering.


End file.
